Honor Thy Father
by Tonyandtheboys
Summary: Carmine Achenza - head of the Mafia Family Tony infiltrated nine years ago- shows up at NCIS to make a deal with them. When you enter the Famiglia, you can't just decide to leave it. Sometimes you don't even want to. - Tony-centric, team very involved too
1. Chapter 1 - You know me

Hello, new project for me here, never tried NCIS before. Hope you like it, I can't wait to hear what you think !

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Tony's treacherous guts were apparently sleepy that morning. Nothing could have prepared him for what was about to happen. It was the most boring, paperwork filled, 'no-serial-marine-killer' morning ever. Naturally, Tony had to entertain himself with the little he had. And after Gibbs had grounded him to his desk because he'd spent one too many pauses at Abby's lab, this particular task required a certain evil thinking on his part. How to annoy McGeek with no preparation and no leaving his desk-for-fear-of-the-big-bad-silver-haired-wolf ? Throwing stuff at him wouldn't cut it. He was in a mood for genius. He wanted something that would take McGee, Ziva and heck, even Gibbs by surprise. He knew that even if his boss would never admit it, ol' LJ Gibbs loved his most ingenious pranks. The older man would always try to hide his little smirk behind his sacred coffee cup, but Tony just knew. He saw the amusement dancing in his eyes. Tony saw a lot of things that he kept to himself.

DiNozzo was thus pretending to fill some paperwork ( that he had already done the night before ) to avoid suspicion when the familiar ' ding' of the elevator rang in the silence of the bullpen. Without moving his head, his eyes shot up to the newcomers before turning back to his desk. It was a habit he had that he didn't even do knowingly. This time though, he purposefully let his focus on the two suits that were now talking to the guy at the front desk. Poor guy, he was as green as grass and had the worst desk ever. Seriously, who puts a trained federal agent's desk right in front of the lift? People always thought it was an information desk.

His guts were still dormant, but two FBI agents at the MCRT's floor and NO Fornell? Didn't smell good. The calm of the morning suddenly didn't seem so bad anymore. Tony saw the desk guy looking up at Gibbs and his team, and the two suits following his gaze. Damn, it was going to be for them. But hey, wasn't it always?

"I should probably go through my alibi for last night, huh boss?"

Tony didn't need to look at Gibbs to know that he had also spotted the two agents coming their way.

"Guilty conscience, DiNozzo ?"

The Senior Field Agent put his self-deprecating smile on and was about to remind his boss of the tendency the FBI had to accuse him with murder every time they put a foot in the building, when another "ding" from the elevator had his eyes turn to ice.

"Hey Boss?" He called the exact moment the two agents came before his desk.

"What, DiNozzo?"

The team leader had probably heard the change in his tone, because Tony noticed the slight worry in Gibbs's voice. He could've prided himself on the fact that he was the only one on that floor that could've perceived it, but his mind was way too far away from that at the moment.

"I should really start working on my own gut thingy."

He knew his voice wasn't exactly at the right flippant tone, which had brought McGee and Ziva's attention to him, but he really couldn't care less if Ducky had just popped up and started hulla dancing.

"Anthony, my boy."

Damn, his voice hadn't changed. _He_ hadn't changed. The two FBI agents immediately turned to face the man that had just spoken and the Agent that was apparently designed to escort him in the building.

"I told you to wait with him downstairs, Sloan!"

Oops, trouble in two first agents had stridden it with all the self-confidence of two suits that had yet to meet Leroy Jethro Gibbs. The third agent just shrugged. Tony couldn't help but stare at the man they had just unknowingly brought back into his world. He was taller than Tony remembered. His hair had a silver quality to them that didn't exist when Tony knew him. His eyes were just as piercing as ever and his smile… his damn, knowing, smirk of a smile, was telling him that this was no coincidence. That he had come here because he'd wanted to. Because he'd found out that Tony wasn't dead. That Anthony DiNocci Jr. had been nothing but illusion.

"Hey, pops," Tony answered with the biggest, fakest smile he'd ever had to plaster on his face. He saw the flash of anger in the eyes of the man, and something relaxed inside him. He still had it in him. He could still play that man. Even if every time he did, he feared he'd lose.

"Language, Anthony."

The Senior Field Agent had to bite his tongue not to apologize to that. Old habit and all that. Instead he kept on smiling. He knew how to annoy people. Didn't Ziva say it was his specialty? She had thought he was joking when he had replied that it was just as deadly as knowing how to kill with a paperclip. She had obviously never crossed paths with an annoyed Carmine Achenza, also known as Father, in the famiglia. Tony knew The _Godfather_ would not be McGee's favorite movie anymore by the end of that case. If case there was.

"You Agent DiNozzo?"

Suit number one asked, obviously a smart guy, that one.

"Yes, and here's Leroy Jethro Gibbs, fearless team leader whom you'd have to consult if you need anything from our lovely and yet lethal team. Please don't be shy, go, he won't bite you," Tony said with his more familiar tone. It would've been funny if his eyes were not so cautious and if the undertone of his voice didn't seem so dangerous.

He made the "go on, shoo" movement with his hands and towards Gibbs and they briefly looked at the team leader that was still intensely staring into the eyes of Achenza before turning their attention back to Tony. He sighed. Damn, it was going to be a long day.

"I'm Agent Sticks, this is Agent Locker and Sloan. We need to talk to you. In private."

Sticks nearly jumped out of his socks when Ziva appeared out of nowhere just beside him, seemingly smelling his shoulder. Tony didn't even make the usual comparisons to snakes or felines he did in his head every time Ziva snuck up on someone. The girl was a pro at being discreet, and Tony loved to watch outsiders learn that the hard way.

"And why would you want our Senior Field Agent but not our team ?" She asked with that husky voice of hers. It used to make him all tingly inside. Now he had other things in mind.

Tony didn't miss the look of interest in Carmine's eyes at Ziva's intruding.

"Fascinating. She must remind you of…"

"What do you want?" Tony effectively cut Carmine's sentence. The older man didn't seem to mind, his eyes all shiny with amusement and his smile still so damn telling. Achenza didn't need to finish his sentence. Tony knew what he had been about to say.

"To talk. In private. We already told you that."

Oh, so that Locker guy could speak.

"Don't bother, Gibbs is the team leader, you don't talk to any of us without him there."

This time it was McGee that had intervened, and it surprised Tony. He looked back at Tim to see him look just as cautious and alert as Ziva was in her own "all up in your personal space" kind of way. They were treating the FBI agents as a threat, and DiNozzo wondered why. And in a second, Gibbs was there too. Standing just behind Tony. The younger man could've sworn he heard his boss ordering him "at ease". And that's when Tony understood. He was tense. He could feel his muscles ready to snap into action, he could see how his eyes never wavered from Achenza's position and he understood why his team was ready to attack. His tension had them on edge. They had _read_ him.

This time, his smile was real.

"It's need-to-know only, and neither of you do," Sticks smartly answered.

"Well then, gentlemen, let's move it to my own personal office, shall we ?"

Tony could see that he had obviously taken aback his two partners by complying, but Gibbs knew better than to argue. DiNozzo placed a hand on Sticks's shoulder as if they were the best of friends and began leading him toward his favorite place. He knew that totally ignoring the mere presence of Carmine would drive him mad, so he did just that. The whole group followed them. When the elevator doors were about to close, Tony glanced behind him (without interrupting the flow of words he had unleashed on the FBI agents) and locked eyes with Gibbs. The lead agent nodded, and Tony just turned back to them, giving his back to his team.

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As soon as the doors closed, Gibbs spun into action.

"McGee !"

"Already in the FBI database, boss. I have the files of the three agents here and Abby is already trying to give us and ID on the man they were escorting. I texted her when they came in..." McGee added somewhat bashfully, but Gibbs didn't care and was already turning to Ziva.

"I'm going to look into Tony's old files, I have the feeling that this is connected to some old case of his, yes?"

Gibbs just nodded and went to his desk to grab his cellphone.

"Call Abby, tell her I'm on my way down, I want her to show me what's going on in interrogation room number 1 without letting them know we're watching."

"Is that even possible, McGee?" Ziva asked while going at her desk.

"It is… well, we're not supposed to do it but…"

Tim's babbling was shut by the patented Gibbs glare. "On it, boss," he said, grabbing the phone."but er- boss? why the interrogation room?"

Gibbs was in the elevator when he looked up from his cell with a humorless smirk. "Well McGee, do you know any other office DiNozzo may have that I don't know about?"

"Well no but …" His answer was cut by the doors closing. The two partners left in the bullpen didn't even hear the barked "Fornell, explain!" that Gibbs directed to his phone.

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He hadn't even made it into the lab yet when the tall Goth jumped him.

"Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs ! What's going on? McGee told me to ID that handsome man that came in earlier but then he called me and he didn't seem to like Handsome Face there," she pointed to the screen where the picture taken by the inside camera of the NCIS building stood, "and then he said that you'd probably be pissed and that Tony had acted strange but that he resumed being his totally charming awesome self but that something was still off and here you are and … where is my _caff-pow!_ ?"

"Abbs, did you do what McGee told you ?"

"Of course Gibbs, you know I always obey order. I'm not like-"

"Abbs ! Now. And I wanna hear them"

"Ay Ay !"

And two clicks later, they were watching NCIS interrogation room n°1.

"Weren't there supposed to be 3 Feds with them, boss-man?"

The frown on Gibbs face was answer enough, and she didn't insist, focusing instead on the streaming video and praying inside that everything was going to be okay.

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"An interrogation room, Anthony? How fitting," Carmine said once his three escorts had agreed to leave him alone with the NCIS agent.

Tony had entered the room as if it was indeed his office, leaving the four visitors a few seconds to go next room and switch the lights that let the interrogee see that no one was in the observation room. He then pointed a finger to the camera to show that it wasn't recording (no red light). It seemed to satisfy the agents.

"Am I to believe that nobody is hacking into these cameras to watch our every move?" Carmine Achenza asked lazily, his mouth stretched in an amused twitch.

"Is that even possible?"

"Always so eager to play the fool, Anthony."

Something inside him cringed each time he heard his full first name but he knew Carmine wasn't going to call him anything else. He was okay with it, actually. There were no rules in this game. And he loved to play.

"So pops, what brings you here?"

"I am not your _pops_, Anthony."

"No, that you are not."

Here it was. The flash of anger. Just a fleeting second, and Carmine's poker face was back. Tony knew he'd hit close to home. He had, after all, called the man Father, once upon a time.

Carmine didn't say anything, and Tony knew the man enough to understand he wasn't going to engage. Father loved to just sit silent and let people crumble to his feet and unravel their deepest secrets. Then, he'd just tap them on the cheek, as if it was nothing, as if each one of them was the prodigal son. They thought they were forgiven. They thought everything was going to be okay.

"How did you know I wasn't dead?"

"You're too smart to '_get dead'_."

But Carmine Achenza never forgot. The man was quoting Tony's expressions. He was telling him just what the agent already knew. _I don't forget anything. I know you_.

And Tony hated it. Because he knew it was true. Father could see through people. Tony's undercover work had worked partly because paradoxically, he often let a part of his real character show and grow. A part that he would usually hide or refrain in real life. He didn't just play cocky, smart-mouthed, smart or proud. He was it.

"How did you discover I wasn't dead?" Tony rephrased, seemingly unfazed by the first answer.

"You'd think I just happened to stumble over your face on the paper or on the streets, wouldn't you?"

"You don't stumble on anything."

"Told you you were smart."

"Quit deflecting."

Tony had voluntarily lost his playful tone. He knew Carmine would see through the bullshit. During his mission he went to bed every night convinced that someone would come "take care of him" because he'd have been made. But nobody ever did. His captain said he was a genius. He himself thought he was a damn lucky fool and that it had been suicidal to keep going back every day for so long.

For a second there, he wondered if agreeing to help the Feds was also a way to fulfill a subconscious death wish. He did know it'd come bite him in the ass, eventually.

"Ah, yes. Deflecting is _your_ specialty, I will concede this to you. But tell me, Anthony, did you really think I would just believe that you were dead? That I would stop looking ?"

Tony didn't answer. He didn't need to. The plan had been to keep moving every two years just like he'd used to. How could he have known that he'd find Gibbs, Abby and Ducky to anchor him at NCIS?

"Wise answer," Carmine resumed after a few seconds of silence. "We grieved. We cried for you."

"You don't cry, Father."

The last word had slipped out of his lips involuntarily. And as soon as it did, he knew he wouldn't dare look into Gibbs' eyes when his boss would try to talk to him about it. And Gibbs would.

Tony was good enough to show sarcasm by the end of his sentence, making his slip of the tongue a voluntary jab.

"How's Cesca ?"

Tony couldn't _not_ ask, and he knew he had to make small talk before going for the kill anyway. However, he didn't like the satisfaction that dawned on Achenza's face. That's when his gut started churning. Well hello there, long time no see.

"She is fine. She has grown into quite the beautiful woman, if I might add. We are really proud of her."

Tony knew Carmine wanted him to ask why. And he wanted to. But he couldn't afford being led away.

"Still have a picture of her brother Tonio in her old bedroom," Achenza added.

Tony had forgotten the power of Father's smirk. He knew he shouldn't feel guilty about betraying a 15 year-old girl. He _knew_ it was probably not healthy to have a picture of her -an assignment- in an old wallet.

"Why are you here?"

"Didn't you hear your FBI friends? They need me. Information and all that. You know how it is."

"Didn't know you for a rat."

"Come now, Anthony. You know how I am, don't you?"

And Tony knew the question was deeper than it seemed. Tony knew Carmine had taken a liking to him from the start. He remembered their long conversations. Carmine telling him that they were alike. Carmine claiming that he understood Tony and that he knew Tony understood _him_.

Those words had haunted the NCIS agent longer than he'd care to admit.

It was weird how in a way Tony could still read the eyes that were locked on him. How he could sense that whatever happened, Carmine still thought every word he said more than nine years earlier.

"You are telling me that you did that just so you could use them in return?"

Tony's voice didn't show any surprise. He had known from the second he had seen him.

**"You know me"**, Carmine repeated, shrugging.

**.**

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"Boss, the whole case seems pretty normal procedure," McGee started when both Tony and Carmine stopped talking for a while. McGee kept peeking at the screen, surprised to see them so comfortable in their silence. He wasn't used to seeing Tony like that.

"Focus, McGee!" Abby exclaimed.

She was holding Bert, her farting hippo, tightly against her chest. Having watched the whole conversation, she knew something was hinky with that man. The tension in the room they observed could practically be seen on video, and yet the duo worked like a well oiled machine.

"This is not my Tony down there McGee, and you better tell me why!" She added, squeezing Bert harder.

McGee tried to ignore the sound the stuffed animal made before going on :

"The FBI operation involving Carmine is pretty simple. They'd wanted him for years, as I told you earlier, he's the head of a Mafia Famiglia well known in Baltimore. Runs half of the town criminals and almost all the officials there. I don't really get it. Everyone knows the man is mafia, yet every official in the city battles for the seat next to his in Church."

"Well McObvious, I'm disappointed. How does that not remind you of.. well, every Mafia movie ever made ? Al Pacino was even named Commander of the Order of St. Sebastian, for the Movie God's sake!"

McGee nearly fell back on his bottom when Tony spoke just behind his ear. When the hell had he come down there? The Senior Field Agent went on with a mocking smile.

"Well, it's not exactly like _the Godfather_ either. I mean, they don't even call Carmine Godfather. He is "Father" to them. He loves it."

"Want to tell us something, DiNozzo ?"

Gibbs was always straight to the point with his agents, but truth was, even if he didn't let on, he was damn glad his oldest Agent could make jokes like that. He did not like what he'd seen on Abby's screen. He could feel that something was wrong. He could feel the pull the man had on DiNozzo and yet he noticed the spite in Tony's eyes. It was just like when he used to talk about his father.

"Not really the time, boss. Don't wanna let this one go yet. Just know this is Carmine Achenza - as Abbs babies would have already told you," he added with a wink to his forensic genius, "When I was with the Baltimore PD, I was sent undercover to infiltrate his entourage. He liked me. Took me in instantly. Climbed the Famiglia's social ladder. Became a surrogate son. He sent me on missions from time to time, but he preferred when I was planning them with him rather than when I went out. One of the missions went to hell when an old buddy from Peoria recognized me in the street. Vicente and Freddy, his two only sons, opened fire. I killed them both. BPD faked my death. Beautiful funeral, all of the famiglia was there. Touching moment, really."

Tony's tone was casually flippant but there was some bite to it that proved how affected he really was. By what exactly? His partners couldn't guess. But hadn't he said once that each time you went undercover, you lost something there? Had Tony lost himself on the mission? Was Carmine a Jeanne Bennoit prequel ?

"What about your case?"

"I'm going back. Call Detective Jackson from Baltimore. He's my old partner and knows everything I know about it."

Gibbs was about to say he doubted it when he recognized the look on Tony's eyes. Nostalgia.

"Tell him I say hi. But hey Gibbs, it's not really bad. He's gonna be out of there the second the Feds give him what he wants."

Somehow, his tone was giving bad news when his words meant the opposite. Abby squeezed again, and when he looked up to smile at her, she ran at him to hug him senseless.

"Tony DiNozzo, will we ever know your full story?" She muttered more to herself than to him. She couldn't know that Gibbs wondered the exact same thing.

Tony smiled, reaching out to delicately extricate himself before turning his back at them and leaving.

_You don't want to know, Abbs. You really don't_, he thought.

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Gibbs hadn't wasted a second after Tony's departure. Thirty seconds later he was dialing the number Abby found for one Detective Jackson, Baltimore. McGee had yet to say something after being interrupted by Tony, but he seemed lost in thoughts. Abby had resumed tiping frenetically on her keyboard, trying to find God knew what, to help her friends make sense of this whole story. When the detective they were trying to reach finally answered, Gibbs signaled to Abby to put him on speaker. The introductions were short, Gibbs had no time for small talk. He had just given Carmine Achenza's name when Ziva arrived. McGee explained who they were talking to and she nodded and stayed silent, going through the notes she had brought with her.

"You work with DiNozzo, don't you? That's why NCIS is calling me."

"He told us you knew everything about his undercover assignment."

Jackson snorted.

"Yeah right, and the Pope's protestant."

Ziva's eyebrows shot up at the unsusual expression and she abandoned the reading she was doing, giving her full attention to the man on the phone.

"Look Agent Gibbs, if you're the one that's been working with him these past 8 years, you should now by now that the kid is one of the biggest, smartest, bullshitter ever."

"_Nine_ years. And you telling me you don't know the case?"

"Oh, I know the case alright. Well, I know what the kid told me. I read his reports. But he's been in for more than 6 months, Agent Gibbs. And I'm pretty sure the two pages report he gave us every other week meant that we didn't know jack about what was really going on in there."

"So what, you let him give you crappy reports on an assignment this big?"

On the other hand of the line, the man let a humorless chuckle.

"Look, Agent, his reports were far from crappy. He gave us everything we needed. By his third week in, we had enough evidence to arrest the perp we wanted."

"So why didn't you pull him out ?"

Gibbs was getting more and more unnerved by the second. What kind of cops were they, letting one of their own stay six months undercover in such a dangerous environment? Baltimore had one of the higher crime rate in the country, and it wasn't just a joke. McGee's first report was clear enough as to how important and vicious Achenza and his goons were known to be. Letting an agent in this situation when he already had enough information to close the case was irresponsible and Gibbs was damn tempted to go give a piece of his mind to whomever was in charge at the time.

He forced himself to calm down. What had him so twitchy? His agent was safe upstairs, in a building full of highly trained federal agents. He tried to reason with himself for 5 seconds before giving up to the bad feeling he had. His guts were rarely wrong. And the look on DiNozzo's when he had told them it was no big deal just made Gibbs want to reach out for his Senior Field Agent and pull him out of the room he had just now reentered as the video cameras showed him. And then the Baltimore cop added something Gibbs had _not_ expected.

"He's the one who didn't want to leave them."

Abby's gasp summed up pretty much everyone's reactions.

"Tell me," Gibbs asked quietly while fixing his stare on the screen that showed his agent sitting in the same position as before, facing Achenza.

"Told us he was earning the leader's trust. I don't know what they did to make him think that, but the kid was right. In a month, he had done better than the FBI itself. He gave us pictures and data that he told us he stole from the computer of one of Carmine's sons. We had enough to build a serious case, maybe even enough to put the two sons behind bars."

"Why didn't you ?"

It was Abby's murmured voice that had asked the question. Things were beginning to make sense. And she didn't like the feeling in her chest. She couldn't watch Tony on her screen anymore, she was transfixed by the phone on the desk and hang onto every word. She didn't even notice that she wasn't the only one in this situation.

"Look Ma'am, whoever you are, the kid is a damn good cop ..."

"Agent," McGee interrupted nearly involuntarily.

"He was a cop when I knew him. And he was as good as they come. But this thing was big. And Anthony -" it was the first time he'd say his first name "- he was one of those cops that thrived for justice."

"He prefers Tony," McGee interrupted again, as if he couldn't stop himself. Gibbs shot him an impatient glare.

"Well, he didn't when I knew him," there was a thoughtful pause, "anyway, what I was saying is that he didn't want out. He told me he couldn't stop until he had all of them. I went to see the Captain anyway. Wanted the boy pulled out immediately."

"Why, Detective? Why did you do that ?"

None of the Agents wanted to hear the answer.

**"Because I thought he liked it there."**

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"Vince, Freddy, maybe. But you? too smart."

"You're talking about your sons, Carmine," the cold voice of Tony answered.

Carmine just smiled. That smile that had given the creeps to McGee and to many other suspects Tony had interrogated. When the case had been tough. When he had wanted answers and was tired of the lies. When his friends were in danger or when he was left to fend for himself and let the clown and jock personae go. That glacial twitch of the lips that made his eyes look like ice and showed an undercurrent of ferocity when his words seemed friendly and casual.

Tony didn't know that McGee, Gibbs and Ziva were noticing how Carmine's expression was just like the one that they had sometimes seen crossing his own features. He didn't know that they were now realizing that he had picked it up from someone. And that that someone was the head of one of the most important Famiglias of the country.

He just recognized the smile for what it was, and knew in advance that whatever Carmine was about to say was going to have the effect of a bomb. He was putting his shield on when Achenza talked.

"I know."

And he needn't say anything more. Two words, and Tony understood exactly what "the Father" had wanted to say. He had always understood so easily. _I know I'm talking about my sons. My __**three**_ _sons_. That's what Tony got from two words and a smile. And that's what Carmine had wanted to tell him.

"Your deal with the FBI. What you want..."

Tony marked a pause and looked up to lock eyes with the man facing him, showing detachment when inside him his heart was making loud bangs, making it hard for him to think.

"It's me."

And Carmine smiled again.

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_**So?**_


	2. Chapter 2 - You never left

_Hey everyone, thank you all for having added my story to your favorites/alert lists (I'm not exactly sure how it works, but I guess it means you liked it!)_

_Special thank yous to the reviewers, did you people know that receiving that "review alert" email is the best feeling? I didn't. I Love It._

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" Get him out of there, _now_ ! " Gibbs ordered the second he heard Tony's words.

He had snapped his phone shut five minutes earlier, just in time to hear the end of the conversation going on in the interrogation room. McGee had the lab's phone at his ear when Gibbs stormed out of the room leaving a shell-shocked Abby and two Agents stunned by what they had just heard and watched. Ziva was out of there in no time, following Gibbs just in time to sneak in the elevator before the doors closed.

McGee had one of the techs of interrogation room N°2 knocking at Tony's door to interrupt the meeting long enough for Gibbs to arrive. Less than a whole 60 seconds after Tony's words, the Senior Field Agent was being called outside the room despite the barrage that Sticks and Sloan had organized at the door.

"Gibbs, I called my contacts when McGee told me about Achenza," Ziva said the second the elevator doors closed on them.

"What do you have?"

"The situation is _hinky_ as Abby would put it. The Achenza family is well known, respected and feared as mafia. But the leader has never been at risk, he's crafty and overly cautious. The FBI had nothing on him. Not even the weakest link to the pettiest criminal. He manages his business inside closed doors and it's nearly impossible to get in."

"DiNozzo did." Gibbs interrupted harshly, pushing the emergency Stop button rather violently.

"Yes, that he did." Ziva replied quietly, pausing to let Gibbs calm down a bit before resuming. "What seems abnormal is that two months ago Achenza has apparently chosen -on his own- to go to the FBI and offer his help."

"Fornell told me so. What I want to know is why and what kind of help."

"There seems to be no reason, Gibbs. As I told you, the FBI had nothing on him personally, only on his sons a few years back, after what I suppose was Tony's mission, but as they are both dead it is not a factor. Tony's investigation brought down numerous other low-leveled members of the famiglia -they call them soldiers- nothing that could've worried him. As it appears, very few people knew anything important about the business. His sons were probably the only ones to have anything conclusive on him, and that's not even sure. My contacts tell me they were more muscles than brain."

"But Tony isn't."

Ziva didn't answer as Gibbs pushed the button with even more force than previously.

.

.

"What is it, Gibbs, I was getting to the point in there?" Tony said as soon as he saw his boss coming right at him.

The silver-haired man didn't acknowledge Tony's presence, he just nodded at Ziva and entered the interrogation room. The team leader knew he could count on the Isreali agent to stop Tony from following him in.

Gibbs didn't waste time. He sat at Tony's previous spot and fixed his stare on the man before him. The man just smiled back, not impressed at all, and Gibbs guts clenched when he recognized the way DiNozzo reacted to his glares in Carmine's own response. He hated that this man could easily pass as Tony's father. They had quite the same build and height even if Carmine had many years on Tony. They had the same posture, the same sense of nobility, the same grace in their movements when they walked. Even their hair was brushed the same. Gibbs observed how Achenza had leisurely yet elegantly seated himself as if he owned the place and remembered how DiNozzo had naturally taken the same position when the FBI had accused him of murder a few years back.

"You are noticing how alike your agent and myself are, aren't you, Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs just kept staring.

"And you are not liking it a bit. Maybe you're even wondering whether he was like that before he met me or whether I rubbed on him and made him what you know him to be. Would that make you angry, Agent? To know that _I _am the one that _made_ him?"

Maybe they were really alike. Achenza could obviously read him more than Gibbs would have wanted, but if he was so sure that he was just like DiNozzo, than Gibbs had the advantage of knowing how he'd react. Growling would lead him nowhere. Maybe it was time for some of that DiNozzo magic Tony had showed him all these years. Let's see if the team leader had picked up any tricks from his junior.

Despite his anger, Jethro Leroy Gibbs gave his biggest smile.

"Does it make _you_ angry to know that when you thought you had found your soulmate, my agent was only playing you?"

"I see. You think that because he worked for the police at the time, I only saw a fake Anthony."

"He goes by Tony."

"He would, wouldn't he?" Carmine sounded thoughtful, but his amused smile never wavered. "You don't see why, now do you Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs didn't answer, observing the knowing smile on Achenza's face instead and trying to figure out the code to what the man was saying.

"And you have been working with him for nine years, so you _must_ know him better than I do? After all, he has infiltrated my family for a mere six months."

His words oozed irony and his mock tone was starting to get on Gibbs's nerves. He remembered that Abby was still watching and how these words must be hurting her. She thought of the team as a family. How could someone come out of the blue and claim they didn't know their brother, their son. How could that someone be _that_ dangerous. Maybe it wasn't just Abby's thinking.

"What do you want?"

"What ever do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. What do you want?"

"Not a lot, I can assure you."

The look on the man's face had Gibbs longing for his sig.

"What are you doing here at NCIS?"

"I don't care a lot about NCIS."

"So you admit being here for my agent?"

"I would like to call my lawyer."

"You are not arrested. You came here of your own will."

"Yes, but I _am_ being interrogated, and I would like to call my lawyer."

Gibbs could feel that there was more to this request than meets the eye, but he couldn't say what. The man had that concealed smirk that meant nothing good for them. The Lead Agent got up and left. Outside, Sticks was waiting for him, angry and ready to start yelling when Gibbs cut him off with the lawyer request.

"What the hell did you do in there? Why would he want his lawyer?" Sticks began questioning, but Gibbs was already gone.

.

He hadn't found his two agents at the door when he'd gone out so he knew where they were. He found the same questions waiting for him in Abby's lab.

"Why would he call a lawyer, he's not being charged with anything. And he has the FBI at his feet for whatever information he has."

McGee's questions were wary and suspicious, and Gibbs had to look for Tony to find him in a corner behind the rest of his team, eyes fixed on him. Fire was burning in those eyes and Gibbs knew he'd have hell to pay for that little stunt he pulled. But he couldn't have left his Agent in that room alone any longer. Not after Detective Jackson's revelations. Tony stayed silent, leaving the loud thinking to the others. Abby was hovering around her best friend with a worried look. She had yet to let go of Bert the Farting Hippo.

"Maybe he wants his lawyer to make a deal?"

"They have already made one. The FBI either don't realize or don't care that they are being played. We have to understand how."

"Tony, is that man the kind to hide behind a lawyer at first signs of trouble?" Ziva asked, turning to see Tony without the awkwardness that made McGee avoid eye contact with his senior partner.

Tony was still glaring holes in Gibbs's head, and Ziva had to repeat her question. Abby, who couldn't stand staying silent a second longer, was the one to intervene.

"How would Tony know, huh ? He wouldn't. He doesn't. He doesn't really know the man. Just an assignment, right Tony? He couldn't know something like that just because he spent a few days with the man 15 years ago, right? Don't you see this is just a trick that man pulled to get to him? He just wants to hurt Tony. I don't like him Gibbs. Make him go away."

Abby was rambling now, and everyone could see she was reassuring herself with what she would have wanted to hear from Tony himself. But Tony didn't try to calm her down. He just turned his attention to her and kept watching her, his expression blank.

"What are you waiting for, Tony? Why are you not holding me tight right now to calm me down. You always do that when I'm worried about you. You always tell me I'm right, and it's nothing, and it's all gonna be all right, and Gibbs is gonna make it all go away for me, and you hug me and you caress my hair. Tony? Are you even listening? "

"Abbs, stop."

It wasn't the voice she had wanted to hear. It was Gibbs's, putting and end to the scene. He walked to her and took her hand to bring her back with him to his spot, farther away from Tony. McGee seemed way out of his comfort zone, obviously not knowing what to do or where to look at. Ziva had just crossed her arms and laid back on the wall next to the door.

Ducky was just about to enter the room unnoticed when Gibbs snapped.

"DiNozzo, you with us?"

"Yes, boss."

"Then start showing it!"

Anger flashed in Tony's expression, but for Gibbs's eyes only.

"You made him call a lawyer, boss. He never does that. And I would know, Abby, because it was not a few days 15 years ago, it was _months_ during which he called me his _son_."

Gibbs was about to answer when Tony's voice, still calm but with a lethal edge, carried on.

"You made him do that when I could have just spent 10 more minutes with him to make him tell me everything and leave. But you didn't let me. Because -"

"Because you didn't _have_ ten more minutes with him in there," Gibbs interjected.

"Because you didn't trust me."

DiNozzo said using his boss interruption as an argument proving his point.

"I'm your team leader DiNozzo and I don't have to justify my decisions just because you have d.. trust issues. Next time one of your partners asks you a question on the case, you answer it. Period."

"Were you about to say daddy issues, boss? Nice touch," he chuckled humorlessy. "This is not your case, this is the FBI coming to _me_, ex-cop of Baltimore, for help. It has nothing to do with NCIS and you do _not_ have the lead on this. "

Tony got up then and rearranged his already perfect shirt. He took his time to look at everyone in the eyes once before turning to a reflective glass on the wall behind him. He passed a hand through his hair and a second after that, the old, casual, funny Tony that nothing could deter was back. It was as if the last scene had never happened. He had an apologetic expression and a somewhat bashful smile on when he went to Abby.

"Sorry Abbs," he kissed her cheek even if she was still hugging Gibbs, "I was just thinking about this whole lawyer thing, and I think I may understand what he's doing." Then, turning to McGee he added, "would you mind checking out who this lawyer of his is?"

McGee nodded eagerly, glad that someone had something for him to do. The tension was still palpable, and everyone was waiting for Gibbs to say something. The old ME whose presence nobody had acknowledged drew closer to his oldest friend and put a hand on his shoulder, silently asking him to calm down and keep to himself whatever retort could have made things worst.

"The lawyer is a woman. Francesca-"

"DiNocci. Well isn't that just perfect?" DiNozzo sighed.

.

.

He had to make an effort not to detach himself from what was going on around him again. He had a tendency to shut things off when his inner turmoil started to be too much to handle. He had never lost his hold on the facade that sometimes masked outright despair. Not in front of his team. This time though, he hadn't had the time to brass or compose himself. He had been edgy from the second he'd seen Carmine, and the bad move Gibbs made by getting himself involved and throwing him out had been the last straw. He regretted it and would for a long time, he knew. He specifically hated to hurt Abby, which he now had, but he hadn't really been listening to them, instead he had sat there seething and wondering what the hell Carmine wanted with him.

"DiNocci? Wasn't that the name Tony took as an alias?" Ziva asked, knowing very well the answer.

The five sets of eyes that turned to him then, questioning him silently, made him do something he usually tried to avoid. Looking back. There were a lot of things DiNozzo didn't want to think about. Sometimes he thought he'd be ready to pay a fortune if he could just totally get rid of them. His life at home when he was a teenager was one of these things, but a majority of them happened after he became a cop. It was the little things, really. The yellow sundress of the little girl of his first rape case. The feel of a neck snapping under his fingers when he was still in Peoria. The hopelessness in the eyes of the people he met in some streets of Baltimore. The sight of the first thirteen year-old prostitute he'd met and the smell on his fingers after he'd forced two down her throat to make her throw up the pills she'd taken.

The bitter taste of Kate's blood on his lips after a bullet went through her head, and the interrupted laughing sound of her last teasing comment.

Then sometimes it was big irrational things. Like the feeling that his father was right and that he'd end up in the sewers - failing to rescue a missing Marine. Like knowing he'd never see a partner he had considered family ever again. Like falling in love with an assignment. Like making Abby sob in Gibbs's arms and letting his calm slip in public.

Well, Francesca? she was one of those things. The ones that hurt like hell when something reminded him of them, but that had made him who he was. Damn. He had even given her his name. And oh how he had wished it was his true one too.

He could've stayed there dwelling on the past, but something told him to get a grip and bounce back, so it's exactly what he did.

"Sorry people, but that's another story and I really have to go before she arrives." He said, crossing the lab in four long strides. "And this is not going to be pretty," he added to himself, shaking the bad feeling off his shoulders.

.

He was back in the interrogation room five minutes later. He came in, interrupting a discussion between Sticks and Carmine. Well, actually, Sticks talked and Achenza pretended to care. Everybody knew he wouldn't budge anyway. And Tony knew why. It was time for the second phase of Father's attack. He was bringing in back-ups.

"Sticks, get out."

DiNozzo said abruptly.

"Who do you think..."

"You're in no position to have your pride right now. Get out."

"DiNozzo, I'm the lead..."

"Either you leave or I'm out."

His threatening voice was purposefully kept low. The FBI huffed like a teenage girl, took his folder, and followed order.

.

"Now you tell me, Carmine. What are you doing here?"

"You know exactly what."

"Do you even know what really happened?"

"I do."

"Since when?"

"You know, it's funny," and he really seemed amused by what he was about to say. "The day of your funeral, I voiced my belief that you couldn't be dead. It gave Francesca a lot of hope, I fear. She told me "Papa, I know Tonio isn't dead, I can feel it too.", so I asked her what she wanted me to do. You know how I spoil her, I could never say no to her. And she said "Tonio couldn't just go away, he wouldn't leave his family.""

"So that is who you became then, Carmine," Tony interrupted calmly but with contempt. "You use your own daughter's words to play your mind games."

Tony had to focus on his hands to avoid clenching them into fists. Or shaking. He would make Carmine lose his temper too, he swore to himself. He wouldn't let him win. He knew Achenza enough to understand that the man wanted to see him snap. If this was the game the Father wanted to play, than Tony was in.

"You don't understand. She decided she had to find you. Thought you were hurt somewhere. Amnesia maybe. Alone and far from your family. We've looked for you for months. She didn't get over it. You know how she always dreamt of big adventures, saving the world, helping orphans and traveling the world? You always said you'd go with her to protect her. She ended up pretending it was all just childish nonsense. I suspect she just couldn't make herself do it without you."

"What do you want?"

"You know what I want."

"No I don't."

"Stop that, Anthony. You know."

"I don't."

"Anthony..." Achenza's tone was menacing.

"You tell me I ruined your daughter's life. You tell me you know what happened with your sons. How could you..."

"Son, enough !"

Carmine's booming voice had a commanding undertone that had always made everyone comply and obey without a second thought. He rarely spoke up though, whispers were enough for people not to seek his wrath.

This time though, it wasn't the tone that had Tony silenced. It was the words.

"I won", the agent murmured, getting up.

He had made the Father lose his calm for a second, and even if it was his intention, some big foundation inside him had just crumbled to the ground.

He walked to the door, locked it and then stopped right under the surveillance camera, casually looking up at the wires before returning a steady gaze on the man that had still to move since his display.

"I'm not coming back."

The finality on Tony's voice showed nothing of his inner agitation.

**"You never left."**

.

.

And he unplugged the device over his head. He had five minutes before Gibbs would come running into the next room to observe them or demand to open the door.

"You know I'm the one that killed them. Your sons."

"I do."

"Yet you don't want me dead."

"Correct."

"You were an assignment. I never killed anyone under your orders. The FBI had them on protection detail."

Carmine raised an eyebrow, and mental pictures Tony had tried to suppress came rushing back to the front of his mind.

"You never did under my _orders_. So true and yet… You did kill for me, didn't you?"

"You said you would never bring it back."

"And the fact that you can be certain that I won't ever again means what you've always known somehow. You trust me, don't you?"

Tony didn't answer, checking his watch to see how long he had.

"You could have given me up, Tonio. You had all the evidence you needed to get rid of me." Achenza went on, his head drawing closer, moving for the first time from his laid back position. Tony didn't budge. "And you didn't. You just helped me clean up my carpet and you went to bed."

"I see," Tony said, forcing himself to respond in order not to think back at the scene Achenza was reminiscing. "_You_ trust me. That's what it's all about, isn't it?"

After a few seconds pause, he resumed , "Why now? Have you had enough of incompetent lieutenants? Of weak links that could betray you on the spot for 20 bucks? Have you just realized that the combination of fear, respect and admiration they had for you disappeared years ago? Is that what it is all about?"

Tony's quite exceptional hearing could pick up the oncoming footsteps from the corridor. He had to lunge for the kill.

"You want me to restore your position because you see in _me_ what _you_ were before it worn on you."

"Look at you, Tonio. Simply understanding and stating this means that you know you can actually achieve such a task. When you met me you had the charisma, the talent, but not quite the finesse yet. Look at you now. I could make you achieve greatness."

"You are making big promises. You never do. You are desperate."

"On this, you are wrong. I don't care if they love me or not anymore. They still fear me and it is enough, whatever you say. But you should have known that I don't forget anything. You should have known that someday I would appear at your doorstep to claim what's mine. And Anthony, Son, whatever you think-"

The sound of a door being kicked violently open signalled the two men that they had an audience behind the reflective glass, from next room.

"-**You **_**are**_** mine**."

.

.

Tony left his spot to go face the large glass. He could see Gibbs, Ziva and McGee behind it. They didn't even ask him to replug the wires of the camera. Tony knew they had probably heard the last words of Carmine but he didn't care. His mind was racing. He was trying to put all personal feelings aside and work with a strictly professional goal in mind. What was he supposed to do to make Achenza help the FBI without going back with him to Baltimore? The Don would never give them anything if he didn't get what he wanted in exchange. Tony knew that Carmine wouldn't care much about giving up some names. Thorns in his side that the FBI would take care of. He couldn't even be bothered by some revelations these people could make, because he had always been very cautious and none of them could link him to anything compromising. Except Tony. The agent tried his best to suppress the self-hatred and the guilt that were creeping up his spine.

"So your deal with the FBI means nothing."

"You know I keep my words."

"They can't give you what you want."

Tony gave a slight nod to McGee, and the younger agent switched off the lights that made people in the interrogation room able to see through the glass. His reflection greeted him instead of the three agents previously facing him. He smiled. Rearranged his tie and smoothed inexistent wrinkles on his shirt. His eyes were dead serious but his body was relaxed. He could see the reflection of Achenza behind him, smiling and shaking his head.

"Does she even know what you're trying to do here?"

"I thought I should leave it a surprise."

Smug bastard. "Does she know what you do?"

"She knows everything there is to know about her Father's business. She insisted to be let in. Apparently wanted to be as close to her family as she could. Something to do with the fear of losing us like she did her _brother_."

This time Tony didn't even try to control himself as he spun into action, turning back and kicking the chair down with violence. Carmine Achenza didn't even blink.

"I won", Achenza said, mirroring Tony's earlier words. He didn't even smile to show his satisfaction. It was not the time.

"Don't you dare blame that on me!" He roared, his voice low and downright dangerous. Pent-up violence and hatred oozed from his body in waves and yet he didn't even move anymore. "Don't you dare pretend you included her in the Famiglia's business because of me. You told me you'd leave her out of this."

Tony drew closer, going round the table to be just as close to Carmine's face as he could.

"You told me it was too dangerous. You know it is."

"And you promised you'd protect her."

"I did !"

"And then you _left_."

"You bastard. _**I could kill you**_."

.  
>.<p>

McGee had never seen Tony like that. He was positively shocked silent. He knew Tony. Well, he thought he did. He'd seen him pissed or frustrated, but that was something else altogether. A pissed or anxious Tony was stiffer than usual, his snarky remarks had more bite and he tended to mask his emotions with lots of words. He had also seen Tony in precarious positions, be it attached to a bomb or glaring down the barrel of a gun, and even then he'd stayed the Tony they all knew. The only time Tony had mildly surprised him by his intensity and genius was when he had set his mind on avenging Ziva's death on a nearly suicidal mission. But this... he had never seen.

Tony wasn't stiff nor did he seem tense. He had obviously reached a new level of rage, a level in which his lean body seemed to move like a wild feline's, ready to lunge at its prey. In which his eyes promised torture and his calm voice sent chills running down McGee's spine even if the junior agent wasn't in the same room. It was like he had never met Tony before.

He seemed unpredictable and dangerous. He was scary.

Timmy thanked God Gibbs hadn't forced Tony to plug back the camera, relieved Abby didn't have to watch that. And then Tony said he could kill Achenza, and McGee _believed_ him. This Tony could do anything. Gibbs didn't move. He seemed just as transfixed as McGee and Ziva, in his own bad-ass way.

And then the interrogation room door opened, and a tall girl with long and silky brown hair came in with assurance.

"Please get out of my client's personal space," her confident voice ordered when she took in the position of Tony, with his back at her, literally breathing down Achenza's neck. And Tony's eyes shot up. He froze a second and then -very slowly- straightened up.

"So you really are his lawyer then."

If he hadn't seen Tony's mouth move, McGee couldn't have recognized the voice that had spoken up. It was the woman's turn to freeze. Tony rotated to be facing her and the self-assured young woman seemed to melt in front of their eyes.

"Anthony? Tonio?"

She brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp and her eyes were big and filled with so much emotions that McGee couldn't read them. Maybe he hadn't even experienced them.

"Hey, Cesca."

Tony had a little smile and his eyes showed all the sadness he had always hid from his team. Ziva took a step closer to the glass. McGee didn't realize he had taken one back.

"Interesting," came the voice of Ducky who had apparently snuck in sometime during their observation of Tony's metamorphosis.

McGee didn't pay attention to the ME, way too absorbed by what was happening in front of him.

Before the woman could answer, the door opened again to let Sticks enter.

"Mr. Achenza, I believe this is your lawyer. Miss DiNocci, this is Agent Anthony DiNozzo he's the one that ..."

"DiNozzo?" The woman interrupted.

"Yes, my dear, Anthony here has been Agent with NCIS for quite some time now." Achenza casually informed, his eyes never wavering from Tony. "He used to be a Detective for the Baltimore Police Department... Some ten years ago."

.

.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hello guys, I hope you won't find this one too boring? Once again, thank you all for the reviews and alerts, they make me smile all day long ! Please do tell me what it is you like or think is not so good. It can only help. **_

_**Oh, & please read the note at the end ! I need your suggestions :)**_

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.

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Tony could see realization dawning in Francesca's eyes. Her hand fell from her face and she stood there, glaring at him.

" Sticks you're dismissed thank you " Tony ordered. And Sticks obeyed. The guy really was desperate to have Achenza on the FBI payroll. Or maybe he was just stupid.

" See, darling, you were right. He wasn't dead. He had just finished his assignment."

Tony didn't even care about Carmine anymore. Suddenly, Francesca's face went blank then cold. She had put her poker face on. But you can't bullshit a bullshitter, right? He saw right through it. He could _sense_ how very unsettled the woman he used to call his sister was. She took a seat next to her father and turned to talk to him, totally ignoring Tony. Just as if he was just any cop charging any client of hers.

He hated it. He hated how she could just hide everything behind a cold expression that she didn't use to have. He hated how she had become all business and had lost that peculiar spark in her eyes. Maybe he just didn't know her anymore.

" On what charges do you think you have my client? "

" No charges. He went to the FBI. They came to me. He really doesn't need a lawyer" Tony warily answered.

Francesca turned to interrogate her father with a look. The man shrugged his shoulders with a little smile.

" Why did you call me then? "

" I thought you would want to see what the cat dragged in " Carmine said slowly, tasting the words on his lips.

" Have you signed any document or deal with the FBI ?"

" Nothing has been signed, darling, I wouldn't have without you. "

Tony's attention perked at that. They didn't even have a written deal? Was the FBI just plain stupid? He had guessed that Sticks was still a little wet behind the ears, but then why give him such a case? Was that the reason why he was so eager to comply? So that he could prove himself when Achenza talked? Tony sighed.

" So I am not needed here. I am going to leave then. "

And as blank as her tone was her face when she took a last look at her father before stepping out of the room.

" I don't care about what the FBI wants. I'm not giving you anything and if you don't want to give them information than you can just get the hell out. " Tony said before following the woman out.

Sticks and Locker nearly jumped him, assaulting him with questions at the second he got out and closed the door behind him.

" What did he say? What's happening? Why is the lawyer gone? "

" Look kid, he's not going to give you anything so just go home and take him with you. "

He saw Cesca turn left to find the elevator, and he ran behind her, jumping in with her just moments before the doors " dinged " close. He could hear Sticks harassing Gibbs as he got out of the observation room with McGee.

.

Tony didn't say anything during the ride. They got off the elevator and he kept following her when she passed the bullpen, obviously lost. The simple fact that she didn't know where she was going meant that she wasn't paying attention. That she wasn't as cold inside as she showed on the outside. Eventually, she stopped walking, considering where to go next. Tony approached her, getting closer than they had been earlier, before pushing open the door that was just behind her. She went in, and once again, he followed her. They were in one of the conference room. No cameras in there.

" I cried for you. "

" I know. "

" No. You don't. You promised me you'd always be there and you left within weeks."

Tony didn't have anything to say, so he didn't.

" I can't even seem to feel betrayed by the fact that it was all a cop thing. Because I know you really liked us. I can't feel betrayed by your lies because I'm already feeling too angry you left. How pathetic is that? "

Tony kept staring.

" You were the only one there for me. The only one father let take care of me that was not Vince or Freddy. And they were brutes. You knew they were. You told me you'd protect me from them and from everyone else. You're the only one who I wanted to talk to after that man did… you know what he did Tonio. And you **left** two weeks later. "

Her voice was shaky and coming out strangled, but tears were nowhere to be seen.

" I couldn't have stayed. They'd made me. You know I couldn't. "

" You _killed _them, didn't you? "

" It was self defense. "

" Oh my God! Look at me! You are telling me you killed my brothers and I'm only wondering why the hell you didn't come back to take me with you."

Tony thought he might break then and there.

" Do you have any idea what they did to me ? Do you? "

His blood ran cold. And.. was that his heart that'd stopped beating?

" Who ? "

" Why would you care? You weren't there. I didn't know then why those men targeted me. Couldn't quite grasp why, of all the girls in the world, they always had to be gunning for me. Nobody had told me that being the only daughter of il _capo di tutti capi_ had that effect. Nobody had even told me what a Capo was. "

There was cold irony in the way she talked, and it only served to worsen his despair.

" Your Father told me he'd send you away with your mother's family. I made him change your name precisely so that you wouldn't be associated with him in the future. He agreed after what nearly happened to you. "

" Oh yeah I nearly forgot, how did _that _work out for you? I went looking for Tatallia the day I graduated. Discovered he disappeared the day he aggressed me. You're the one that stopped him that day, aren't you? I don't remember much. Just how you brought me home, tucked me in, and promised me I'd never be alone anymore. "

Tony could practically taste the bitterness in her words. But he couldn't focus.

" Who touched you, Cesca ? "

" What, you want to go kill them for me again? "

It hurt him as if he was being stabbed. He flinched at the k-word and took a step back, sighing.

" Are you really working with your father? "

" Do you mean with " Father ", head of the Famiglia? Yes I am. " She replied with renewed coldness and detachment.

" Cesca this is not what you wanted. "

" A lot of things have changed. I am a lawyer now and you're a federal Agent. I thought I knew you. And maybe I did, somehow. But now I _know_ I don't anymore. I only hope you do a better job at protecting these Navy people than you did me. "

**And she left. **

.

.

Tony was lost. He let his feet lead him away from that room while trying to control the fury he felt at whoever had touched Francesca. He didn't like that feeling. He had lost his mind once because of how angry he had been, and he tried to let the man it had made him - a murderer - in the past behind him. What would Gibbs think, if he knew his protege was actually as bad as any criminal they had arrested? Maybe worse because he was pretending to be on the good side. Carmine's knowing smiled flashed in his mind and Tony nearly stopped. Was he really a cop or was it just make believe? Did he go to work every morning just so he could feel better about the gnawing feeling that he had something wicked in him? Was it because he felt something dangerous creeping inside him that he had wanted to run away at the mere sight of Carmine? Was he actually afraid he would want to take Achenza's offer?

On a better day, Tony would have thought of Donnie Brasco infiltrating the mafia or of Anakin Skywalker appealed by the dark side of the force. He would have made the breathing sounds Darth Vader talked with and would have sought the laughs of his partners. But today wasn't a better day, so he stood there, hands on a table, not realizing yet he had arrived in the evidence garage. I little smile grazed his lips when he heard footsteps coming.

" Hey, BlackLungs "

He should have known Palmer would be ready when he'd need him. He always was.

" Hello Tony. "

And the Special Agent was handed a cup of coffee. He smelled the familiar aroma and felt himself relax a bit. Jimmy didn't pry, he just stood behind what had become his friend, waiting, when Tony slammed his hand on the table and began talking. Fast and furious. He didn't make a lot of sense but he rarely did when with Palmer. And the _very_ special agent who was Autopsy Gremlin by day and Tony's sidekick by night didn't seem to mind the angry babbling.

" I don't get it. Why didn't you follow her? "

" She has a right to be angry. She has a right to want her personal space away from me. "

" When has Tony DiNozzo ever respected the notion of personal space? "

That had Tony thinking for a second. And then, he smiled again.

" I owe you, Special Agent Palmer. I owe you big time. "

And Tony flew.

She said she didn't know who he had become? Well he'd just have to show her. Some thought that he was juvenile and noisy. Others said he was a good cop and an even better friend. And well, everybody agreed on the fact that he was overall annoying. What almost no one knew though was that he also was over-protective with a certain group of people. And he was just not letting her go back to the Famiglia.

This time he'd keep his promise. For the first time of his life with NCIS, Tony thanked the stupid security policy that had all visitors checked before they could leave. When Tony arrived at the doors, Francesca was still waiting for her turn behind a russian man that couldn't apparently speak a word of English and that had the security agents all confused. Tony reached out and grabbed the woman's arm. Before she could start protesting, he had her take off the visitor's badge and passing through the side doors without so much as a look from the security agents. They liked Tony. He always wanted to hear about their families and health.

" You're coming with me. "

" Excuse me ? You have no rights to.. "

" Com'on Cesca, you're gonna go all lawyery on me ? "

" That's what I am. A lawyer. "

" I don't believe it. Where's the thrill in wearing a suit every morning to go to work ? "

Tony accepted with a seld-deprecating smile the huff and the raised eyebrow when she pointed at his own outfit.

" You wanted something exhilarating. You wanted to travel and help people."

" I was fifteen and I thought I could do whatever I wanted. "

" You still can. "

" I'm not leaving my family behind. "

" Whatever you're doing for them, it's gonna stain you conscience forever. "

" You talk like you know everything. You stayed with us a few weeks. You don't know us. "

Tony could hear Cesca's slight accent coming back as she let her guards down. He loved it. He could hear himself slip into his old ways too.

" What ' us ' ? You know you're not like them. Your brothers, your cousins and all of your father's soldiers. "

" Don't you dare start filling my head with your big words just so that I can fall from higher. Again. "

He saw something dangerous in her eyes, and paradoxically he was happy to feel a real threat. She could be dangerous. She could defend herself if she wanted. Someone had picked up where he'd left off nine years ago, when he had convinced her to let him teach her some basic fight moves.

Francesca had ended up accepting to have a coffee with him, he'd have to thank Palmer again for that. They were going to the little coffee shop down the street when a man nearly tripped on Cesca. She shoved him off with an insult that could've made a sailor blush which seemed all the more shocking coming from such a petite figure. Only then did Tony realize that the woman he was walking with was not an awkward fifteen year-old teenager anymore. She had blossomed into quite the beautiful woman an attracted more than her fair share of men attention. Tony heard himself growl at the back of the man that had presumably _just _tumbled on her and Cesca rolled her eyes. He was momentarily brought back to all these times he would say something stupid just so she could laugh and roll her eyes with a " Silly, Tonio ". So she hadn't lost everything then.

The trip down the coffee house seemed way longer when he felt like he had to survey every male they crossed path with. Little did he know that Francesca noticed the female attention he received with veiled amusement.

" Eyes up, kid "

He couldn't help himself. The guy taking their order didn't even seem to know where Francesca's eyes were. " Jerry " said his name tag. Tony had barked his order and the cashier stumbled back and reddened. Jerry didn't dare look up from his hands to give them the change. This shop made the best coffee of the area, so Gibb's team was always sent there for refills. The staff knew they were federal agents. And when they didn't know the exact details, well they knew they had guns and it was enough.

" I said up, not down, _Jerry. " _

Tony added before moving on. Francesca elbowed him before sitting down.

" What? Did you _see_ what he was looking at? "

" Thank you Tonio, but I'm a big girl now. " Cesca sighed with faked exasperation.

Tony tried not to grin like a fool when he heard his old nickname. He'd been experiencing mood swings all morning and was beginning to wonder whether he should go see Ducky to check for menopause or pregnancy. His eyes obviously let on on his mood, because Cesca's smile broadened a bit. Albeit shy, it was a start.

" I see some things never change, huh? " She said glancing at Tony's cup.

" You're going to tell me you remember how I take my coffee? "

" I would if it was coffee in your cup instead of hot chocolate, you overgrown kid ", Francesca teased, and Tony laughed because she was right and because damn, it was good to pretend nothing had changed.

" Hey, you told me you'd never tell anyone about it. It was our little secret, and I always let you take a sip "

" I didn't even like it. You put way too much sugar in it, I didn't tell you because I didn't want to hurt your feelings but seriously, are you twelve? "

" Damn it woman, you were fifteen ! " he yelled, indignant.

Francesca let out her first real laugh at the look on his face, and he couldn't help but follow her.

" Hey, now that I think about it, are you allowed to just take off whenever you please? "

" Well not really, but I'm supposed to be pissed at my boss right now and they don't know how to handle me when I'm really angry. I guess he thought it'd be better for everyone involved to let me cool down."

" I think I never saw you angry. "

" You did, you just didn't know it. " He replied with a smile, and her eyes become more thoughtful.

" My father loved how you could just slip from one emotion into another without ever letting the real one show. He kept comparing every knew capo he had to you. He still does."

" You shouldn't know what a capo is, Cesca " and there was wariness and regret in his voice.

She reached out to take his free hand in hers.

" I'm sorry I was angry with you earlier. To tell you the truth, I still am. But I'm not fifteen anymore and I should know better than to believe you could have just come back after what happened with my brothers. "

" I would've come back for you. But I couldn't risk approaching the Famiglia's turf. And I sure as hell couldn't put you in danger by kidnapping you. "

" I know. But the thing we had … broke. "

Tony just nodded. He knew she was telling the truth and not only trying to hurt him as she had earlier.

" Father - he wants you back? "

" When did you stop calling him Papa? "

" When I realized he liked it. " She gave a humorless smile.

Tony accepted her answer without further prying. He understood father issues more than anyone. After all, he did have had three supposed father figures in his life, didn't he? He thought about Gibbs for a second and knew he couldn't stay mad at him. Gibbs rarely did something that stupid. It meant he was concerned. Which meant he cared. Anthony DiNozzo Jr. knew how _just _caring was rare to begin with.

" Yes, he does. He thinks I'm his to take. "

" Are you? "

Francesca's green eyes were piercing through his facade, and he took his time before answering more truthfully than he thought he could.

" No, I'm not. But I'm afraid that maybe there is something in me that wouldn't mind going back. "

" You were never with him, Tony. Hasn't he just explained that you were undercover? You played him, and no one ever does. "

" You don't seem to mind that much. "

Francesca shrugged, and the weight on her shoulders seemed heavy once again.

" Talk to me, Tonio. It's been years, and we probably won't ever meet again, but right now I'm here, and this time I can be the one to listen. "

Tony smiled. He knew she was still very young, but she seemed so mature and.. dependable that a part of him believed she could take it if he emptied his heart and soul on the table between them. But she couldn't, and his reason hold it back. He could share a bit, though.

" I was undercover, Cesca. But something happened and.. "

Could he really say it? He never did. To anyone. Only Carmine knew. Tony could feel a set of eyes glaring holes in his back, it mentally itched. Gibbs had probably sent Ziva to keep an eye on him and see how or what he was doing. She couldn't hear him from where she was, he knew, but it blocked him nonetheless. It was stupid to feel apprehensive about letting a former assassin know he had once killed. But the situation was special. Ziva had always killed for what they told her to be the good of her country. The greater good and all that. Tony had killed because he had been blinded by anger. Because when he had opened the big wooden doors of Carmine's office to find fifteen year-old Francesca Achenza crying and yelling with her back to the wall and one of Father's soldier licking her chest, he had felt fury coursing through his veins. When he had spotted the bastard's hands forced under her pants, he had nearly put a bullet in his head on the spot. And procedures be damned. He had managed to knock the bastard down with a lamp long enough to carry the shaking girl to her bed and ask her to lock the door and stay inside whatever she heard. She'd felt so tiny and fragile in his arms.

Then he had leapt down the stairs. He'd met Carmine coming back from a meeting outside, and he hadn't stopped. Undercover operation be damned too. Nothing made sense in the world anymore. Nothing but the bittersweet feeling of blood in his mouth and the want to feel it on his hands too.

He had realized what he'd been doing halfway through it. The guy - Tatallia - had jumped him the second he came in but Tony had won the upper hand back in two seconds, and started beating him with everything he had. At one point, he had even taken something from the desk to go on when his hands started to hurt.

Carmine hadn't even tried to understand what was going on. He had closed the doors behind them and stood there for a few seconds before he went to a dark little cupboard elegantly carved. He opened it and took a box from it. Inside was a gun he loaded with a calm that seemed out of place. When Tony woke up from his fury high, he was riding Tatallia's body and his hands hurt. The man was not moving anymore but the only things he could focus on for a few seconds were his pounding heart and the blood on the carpet. It was gonna leave a stain.

" He touched her. He touched Francesca. "

Carmine's movement stopped for a second when he heard the words coming out in breathless gasps. He flipped the security off and took aim. A single shot rang out. It was probably unnecessary anyway.

" Did he work for the Mattera clan? "

" I don't know "

" We don't care. "

Carmine hadn't asked him anything more. Not what exactly Tatallia had done to his daughter nor if she was okay - he'd send a doctor to check on her later. He just pointed to the stained carpet and Tony understood. Together they rolled the rug with the body inside and together they took care of it. They had become accomplices.

.

" Tony you don't have to tell me. " Francesca's voice brought him back to reality. It was an anchor he was happy to have. " I know what you did. Well, I think I do. Maybe you think that makes you one of them. " She sighed. " It's easy being Father's lawyer, you know. Nothing can be traced back to him. He has genius in his business. And everybody knows he's never touched a gun. "

Well that wasn't exactly the truth, Tony wanted to say.

" He doesn't need to kill anyone with his hands to be evil. And sometimes the opposite is true too. You can do bad things and still be good. "

When she understood that Tony wasn't going to say anything to that, she went on, apparently changing subjects.

" Father is smart. If he wants you back he won't ask you to quit your job. He won't make you a mere henchman. He'll probably want to keep you away from the - dirty part of his business. He wants you because you have allure and class. He wants you because he's never - in the nine last years - had anyone nearly as good as you were for an insignificant 4 months. You have it in you " - Tony's expression darkened - " not the evil, Tonio, it's not what a Famiglia such as ours needs. The _leadership_ is what he wants. "

Tony gave the words time to sink before thinking about his leadership skills, or lack thereof.

" I led the team.. once upon a time. " he confessed. " The team you've probably met or are going to. Team Gibbs. It has been Team Tony for a time. Well, at least it was supposed to be. Never quite got to that point. Four months later, Gibbs was back and I was despised by the partners that were supposed to trust me and my orders. It's not what I call leadership, Cesca. "

Francesca had a frown on her face when Tony felt the whack on the back of his head.

" You had that one coming, DiNozzo. " Gibbs said, unabashed, when he appeared just behind Tony.

The younger Agent rolled his eyes. How could he have forgotten his boss's tendency to show up at the worst moments? Like when he was admitting something painfully humiliating?

" What can I do for you, Boss? " was Tony's immediate reply as he turned to see Leroy Jethro Gibbs staring at him with his penetrating gaze over the coffee cup he was sipping from.

" Sticks wants you back in there. Achenza has apparently decided he had done what he needed and wants to leave. "

" Well why wouldn't we let him do just that ? "

" Because Vance is gonna ride your ass to hell and back if we don't help the FBI get what they want. "

" Who put Toothpick on the loop? "

" Hoover Building. "

" Damn Suits. "

Once again, Tony caught Francesca's pointed look to his own attire.

" Don't you dare compare me to them, young lady, I actually look dashing in those things. Can't say I ever saw a FBI guy who could say the same. "

Francesca rolled her eyes, and Tony answered her with a wink before getting up.

" Can't give him what he wants boss, and Miss DiNocci here can assure you he will not give us anything in those conditions. "

Gibbs shot a glare to the woman that was sitting facing Tony, probably wondering on whose side she was. The Senior Field Agent smiled.

Tony had promised he'd go back to NCIS at soon as he had walked Cesca to her car, Gibbs had rolled his eyes. The team leader and Ziva had then left the two old friends alone so that they could say goodbye without two pairs of over-observant eyes on them. Tony was agreeably surprised to find that the nice car he had eyed on the way over was actually Francesca's, when he raised an eyebrow at her interrogatively, she just shrugged with a half smile on her lips. Ah, he had taught her well. He opened her door for him, always the gentleman, when his eyes caught a glimpse of light from the inside compartment of her door. She was settling in the car when he realized she hid a knife there. Tony did not like that. Probably in case she was attacked at a red-light, he tried to rationalize. He always read stuff like that on the news. Frigging psychos who attacked pretty ladies when they were stopped at a red-light and jumped in the car before taking off with it. On a hunch - a bad one - he got round and got in the passenger seat. She looked at him, surprised.

" Humor me " He said with a shrug before he opened the glove department. He did _not_ like what he found. " Who gave you this ? " He asked, not needing to mention the gun to be understood.

" Joseph . " She answered unabashed, holding his gaze.

" _Joseph_ gave you a gun? The Joseph _I _know ? "

" Gave it to me when I entered the famiglia. Told me in my job it could be coming handy some day. "

" Has it ? "

Francesca just stood there, staring for a few seconds before she answered.

" It was about to be. But then I found out Tatallia was dead, so I just put it in there and forgot about it."

And here was that cold hatred again. Tony ran his hand through his hair, closing his eyes and taking a little time to calm down. What the hell was Joseph thinking? He'd always been the wise one, advising Achenza on deals and diplomacy and remaining the calm rock the kids and lower graded always went to see when they were about to do something stupid. He was the go-to guy when the younger members of the famiglia were afraid to ask something directly to the Don. Joseph was getting old and he had been trying to find his successor in one of the younger Achenza sons when Tony had been there.

" Don't be mad at him, Tonio " she added softly, once again reaching for his hands. " He said people tended not to like us - the famiglia's lawyers. Said it was a dangerous job being the concili-"

Her words were cut by the violent sound of Tony hitting close the glove compartment, no longer trying to conceal his anger.

" You are _not_ Carmine's consigliere, Francesca. "

" No. I am not. " And her eyes were sad because she knew she had to add : " But I will be. My brothers are dead, Father doesn't trust easily. Never had, but somehow it got worse a few years back. I guess he did find out about your mission a long time ago. "

" Are you saying he is making you ? "

" He wouldn't. A consigliere works for the good of the Famiglia, if they don't want to do so, they can pretend to misunderstand any minor detail and get everyone killed. "

" Why are you doing this, Cesca? Why are .. "

" Joseph retired from the purely legal part of the business. He doesn't deal with any matter requiring law anymore. I took his place. "

" And now he's showing you the ropes for the _other_ _part of the business._ You really want to become the person the other clans seek to make deals ? Talk business? Handle the _little problems _? "

Tony could see in her eyes that she was remembering the same things he did. The calm evenings at Carmine's, when the Father asked not to be bothered so he could spend some quality time with his family. There always were his sons, his daughter and Joseph, who was considered a brother. Tony had been invited to join quite early in his undercover operation. He would go sit and play with Cesca near the fireplace to hear Joseph scolding Freddy and Vicente as if they were still kids. At one point during the evening though, he would receive a message, stand up immediately and leave. " _I just have to take care of a little problem", _he'd say. There were littles problems every night. Not easy being the Famiglia's go-between.

" I can't leave them. They're the only people I have. "

" They are not. "

And he left her. He walked the last few meters to the large exterior doors of the Navy yard not looking back. Achenza wanted to talk?

**Well they would talk alright.**

**.**

By the time he walked into the bullpen, all his partners and his boss were at their respective desks and a tall figure was standing in the middle, in between everyone, armed linked behind his back. From behind, Tony could see the end of a toothpick dancing frenetically in the air. Vance was fuming. Tony liked that, even if he knew that at the second the Director would see him, he'd chew his ass off for letting such a big fish slip from their nets just to follow a girl.

And had Tony not been so focused on ducking the saliva flying toward him while thinking of what would be his next move, he would have been proud to realize that Leon had said nearly exactly what Tony had predicted.

" Who told you you could just stand up and leave a room with Carmine Achenza just so you could talk to your college sweetheart?"

Tony may not have been really focused, but he was not deaf either. He could feel his temper flare up at Vance innuendo, and even if he did know that the Director was being sarcastic, he wanted to snarl at him. McGee was getting anxious behind his desk, and Gibbs had just stood up without any apparent reason for he was not about to intervene. He never did. He probably knew it would only emasculate his agents.

" Nobody did, Sir " Tony answered, choosing the safe road so that McGee wouldn't just melt down under his desk. Plus, he didn't want to see Ziva go medieval-ninja on the Director's ass if she thought he'd gone too far. It wouldn't look good on her resumé. " Then again.. nobody told me not to. " Yeah well, Tony wouldn't be Tony if he actually gave a damn about what his superiors thought of him. And he loved to watch some Mossad-Chick action. He didn't need to look at Gibbs to feel the Team Leader's amused smirk.

" Agent DiNozzo, should I remind you that.. "

" Actually Director, you probably shouldn't." Tony interrupted with a friendly smile and a friendly tone. " Because if you did remind me of my position here at NCIS - under your orders - it may remind _me _that NCIS is in no way involved in the Achenza mission and that with it being a highly classified case you are not allowed to discuss it even if you were indeed _partially_ let it. Meaning that, Director, if you choose to make this case an NCIS matter, well - I'm the boss. "

Tony gave a big smile and moved on to his desk " Hey Probalicious, have you ever heard of that super weird movie in which the first character have this awesome monologue about his life ? It was released in 2007 or 2008, I can't seem to remember. "

McGee apparently didn't want to jump in the " let's piss off Director Vance train ", because he didn't dare answer. Well, maybe he was actually too petrified and hadn't heard.

" What's its name, DiNozzo ? "

" What is it called, Tony ? "

Gibbs and Ziva had both talked at the same moment. Even Gibbs had decided he could play a little, so Tony just winked at Ziva before replying, still in his detached and careless way :

" Hm, let me think. Oh yes, I got it ! It's called 'You're not the boss of me and look who is fucking sorry now'. "

Tony could have sworn Gibbs nearly choke on the coffee he'd brought with him earlier, McGee blanched, and Ziva merely blinked, still playing her part :

" Oh, that does seem like an interesting movie. Maybe you could watch it with me some day. You know I am trying to watch as many good movies as I can since I started taking this night class at the community college "

Tony could have bowed at her acting performance.

" It would be my pleasure to tutor you, Zeeh-Vah. "

" Gibbs. " Vance said with a strangled but calm voice that was nearly impressing. He was at the head of a National Agency after all, he probably had more than a little restraint. " My office. "

And he left. Gibbs waited till his boss was out of sight before narrowing on DiNozzo. The younger man made a face. He wanted to piss Vance off, not to anger Gibbs.

" DiNozzo ! " The man called, and Tony jumped to his feet, exaggerating his fearful face. " I'm your team leader, DiNozzo, that makes me your boss. "

" Yes, boss " Tony replied without a heartbeat hesitation.

" Well? Wanna tell me something too? Talk movie to me maybe? "

" No, boss. Well, you know what, now that I see you this close, you kind of remind me of that actor - Mark Harm- "

_Slap _

" Shutting up, Boss. "

" Take the Simpson's cold case and find me something. Everyone, back to work. "

And Gibbs followed his own boss up the stairs, slowing down just a second to watch Tony laugh with Ziva while pulling the cold case he had assigned to them. The Senior Field Agent was acting as if nothing had happened that day. As if he hadn't just told his Director off. But Gibbs has seen the tension and anger he'd stormed into the bullpen with : it meant that his apparent detachment was not the result of a found solution. Tony had obviously taken a decision and he probably couldn't act on it at the moment. He had settled on something and was just waiting to have the opportunity to do whatever it was. That didn't smell good.

**That's all folks! But now I have a quick question for you guys : do you know where I could find someone to beta-read each chapter & correct the mistakes I make? I don't always have the time to double (or triple) check before I send them, and I don't want to hurt your eyes with big fat mistakes, so if you have any ideas, I'm all ears! **

**Liked it ? Tell me :)**


	4. Chapter 4 - He was back

**Many thanks to those who took the time to review, you made me smile even though I had the worst week ever. And more importantly, you made me want to go on and see this through ( when at first this story was more of an… experiment than anything).**

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THANK YOU for having told me I had mistakenly posted the 18th chapter instead of the 4th when I was editing it!My apologies to those who didn't understand what was happening.

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><p>.<p>

It was 1800. He waved at Ziva a last time, smiling back at her, sincerely grateful for her casualness. She had teased him and somewhat worked to ease the tension all day long. It was not like her to play the fool, so she had done it in her own way, with half serious threats and well... pretty much just butchering the poor American language. McGee had needed it. Tony thought the whole Achenza case had made Probie see him in a new light. And Probie didn't like change. Well, except when it was a change in phones, computers, or anything with the word "electronic" in it. He had seemed subdued when he had bid his partners goodnight. It was all the more unusual for him to be silent as he had gained some McArrogance in the past year. The Senior Field Agent had even thought about bringing his junior's feet back on the ground. A swollen head could easily provoke a blown up body. Agents should never get too self-confident. Cockiness was what made people act less cautiously. It was what made people make mistakes. McGee was getting close to disrespectful, and suddenly, overnight, he had gone all silent and thoughtful. Tony wondered which version he liked best.

.

He hopped onto his car with his smile still in place and waited a few seconds before blowing off a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He switched the ignition on and paused, weighing his options, his hand itching to take his phone and dial the number that seemed engraved in his mind. But he knew he shouldn't. He knew what was to come. So he just drove home, cleaned a bit, took the trash out and took two steacks out of the fridge.

Gibbs was there two hours later.

As he opened the door to let his boss come in, Tony could smell wood and sand dust on him. So he'd been in the basement already, huh ? And it wasn't even 2000. This was big. Tony could sense when his boss had a lot on his mind just with a look, a word or a sniff. Ziva thought it was weird in a stalkerish kind of way - even if she hadn't exactly put it that way. Abby thought it was a psychic power. Or just the way members of a family should be. But the psychic version was cooler.

"What's up, boss?"

Tony said when the older man opened the front door and walked directly to the kitchen as if he owned the place.

"Brought beer," was the only answer coming from there. Tony heard the door of the fridge open and close, and Gibbs was back.

"I knew there was a reason why I loved you boss," Tony answered as he was given a bottle of said beer.

Gibbs sat on the couch near his senior Field Agent and took a look at what he'd been watching on tv. Gibbs could read his agent just as well. Or so he had thought. And Tony was in the mood for old black and white movies. The TV was muted though, meaning he had been thinking and not really following the plot.

" What movie is that ? " the older man asked before taking a first sip.

Tony smiled. He had been in the mood of a good ol' " It's a wonderful life ", but he'd already told the team it was his ultimate Christmas movie. Putting it on _that_ night, knowing that Gibbs was coming and would probably notice, was just like shouting _I am not alright _to his boss's face. A mafia movie wouldn't be appreciated either. Gibbs was not into this kind of irony.

" A movie I was watching with Abby the other night. Forgot the disk in."

Tony had actually not been following the storyline at all. He always turned his tv on when he came home. Made the large apartment seem less empty.

" Woman looks like wife number 3 "

Tony smiled. Ex-Wife number 3 was scary. He turned to take a peek at the TV, and his attention got momentarily caught in the scene.

Huh. God had a wicked sense of humor.

On the screen, a woman was angrily pointing at a man, obviously yelling and crying.

"Nah. This time the guy deserves it. He _is _a jerk. " He answered and got up. He didn't need to watch the screen nor hear the words. He knew the movie by heart. He went to the kitchen and opened a cupboard, all the while talking : " Right now she is saying '_How could you do that to your own family. You lied to us, you abandoned us. Your whole life is a lie._'"

At the end of his sentence, Gibbs was there. Leaning against the door of the kitchen, looking at his Agent making them dinner.

"Yeah, she's saying that?" He asked softly, his gaze penetrating. Tony didn't look up. He knew he didn't need to. He just smiled.

"You're missing it boss, just about now, she took a gun to her head. Definitely not you wife."

"What did the man do?"

Tony sensed the double meaning.

"Exactly what she said. Lied to his family, lived a double life, ended up leaving altogether. It screws up their oldest kid. He leaves home and get killed. She tracks him down, shoots him and then eat her gun. Great movie boss, a classic. You should really borrow some DVDs from that shelf there," he motioned to the other room with his head.

And this was the last thing even remotely related to the whole Achenza affair they talked about that night. At 2300, Gibbs was out and in his car. At 2307, he was still there, waiting. And the wait didn't disappoint. It rarely did. At 2310, Tony got out of the building with only a plastic bag in which Gibbs had put the trash earlier, a half emptied 6 pack and a newspaper, both of which Gibbs had brought with him. He had left the newspaper on the low table in the living room. Tony was throwing everything his boss had brought into his home.

Gibbs waited until Tony was back in before he left. If his agent was being so cautious, it was for fear of being bugged. Did Tony really think his boss would be so sneaky ? Or was Tony afraid of something else? Gibbs grumbled unhappily. He _was _parked outside the man's apartment after all, maybe these fears weren't so unfounded.

.

.

When Tony locked the door of his apartment, he took his cellphone and stared at the screen a few seconds. He dialed the number that was etched into his brain and heard the first two rings go unanswered.

"Hello ?"

The voice was gravely and cautious. Tony smiled.

"Alceo, it's me."

"Tonio." There was a pause, and Tony imagined the short Italian man looking around him to check that he wasn't being watched. Alceo had always been a bit paranoid. Good quality in the job. "So it is true then, you are not dead."

You don't give explanations when you're the one in charge.

"Listen to me good. You're gonna tell the boys I'm coming Friday night after the family dinner."

"What ? How do you thin-"

"I'm not finished."

Tony's voice rang like an order.

"You're gonna tell them that I'm back. And you're gonna do it tonight. Tell them I want them there when I arrive and tell them that if they need to be reminded of who I am, I'll be more than happy to oblige. Understood? "

"Yes, Anthonio."

"Good. I'll see you then, Alceo."

"But they say you're with the f-"

"And bring little Catarina with you, I want to see how big she got."

Achenza's voice rang in Tony's head. _Remind them you know their family, it always makes them more eager to obey._

"Yes, Anthonio."

And he hung up.

.

.

Tony then went to his little study. It was not very often used, and even less visited when friends came over, which is probably why Tony had put the liquor cabinet there. He didn't use it much. Not anymore. His frat buddies didn't ask for more than beers, the younger women were all for tequila and his partners generally brought their own drinks when they stopped by. But he had grown up with an Italian father that brought business associates home and a British mother that could have come straight out of a James Bond Movie. Tony was able to know what kind of men he was dealing with just by their drinks. It had served a lot when undercover. His father, for example, was a Dry Martini (shake, don't stirr) kind of man who loved a good Buchanan's en la Rochas after diner. Carmine Achenza was more of a Chianti lover for dinner, and a social Manhattan-drinker (stirr, don't shake). Tony.?. well Tony had had different phases during his life. But there was only one drink he always made when his mind was boiling. The familiarity of the movement was oddly relaxing. Crush the ice cubes, put them in a glass, reach for the scotch and then for the Amaretto. He stirred and took the glass with him. He had this calmness enveloping him when he sat in the large leather chair that he had treated himself with a few years back.

The apartment was entirely silent, except for the clock on the under-used desk of his study. Tic-Toc. Tic-Toc. And Tony was far away. Not noticing the shadows that the muted TV in the other room projected on the walls. He was looking at his drink, but not seeing anything. He was way back, in another time, another life. He could nearly feel the heat of the flames caressing his skin. He could hear Cesca's quiet laughter. He could even breath in the characteristic smell of wood of the large lounge the family was gathered in.

He took a sip of his drink and he closed his eyes, trying to _see_ what he felt. Francesca would always tell him he looked like her father, sitting in this position with his legs crossed at the ankle and a drink in his hand. He'd answer that it was every man's posture, and she'd point at her brothers, with their legs widely spread or even thrown over the arm-rest. They'd laugh together and he'd wink at her not to say anything when Vince asked what was so funny.

He drank from his glass again, just like he always had, leaving the cold liquid burning his tongue a few seconds before swallowing. And then his own father was there, talking to his secretary, and his mother was playing with his hair while humming a song from her childhood. And he tried to distract her enough so that she would forget that there was a glass half full on the table. So he talked politics, parroting everything he'd heard from what he'd spied on his father and she laughed. It wasn't enough. But he was young, and desperate, and he couldn't stop trying. He told her all about the last movies he'd watched and he impersonated each character and she clapped, still humming, gracefully and airily. He tried not to move too much so that she wouldn't stop touching his hair. And Cesca giggled. And he was John Wayne, Marlon Brando and Sean Connery. And she always asked him to bread her hair, but her father didn't like it because she was a grown girl.

He drank again, his head moving lightly to the rhythm of the hummed song that burned his memories.

And then, the doorbell rang.

He opened his eyes and everything was gone.

.

" … and this day has been so weird for you, and I thought that Gibbs would order you to stay at his place or whatever it is he does when he doesn't want you to stay alone, and then I called him, and he was sanding his boat, and I asked him again how he did to get them out of his basement but he wouldn't tell, and then he told me he'd left you alone, and then I thought _' Hey ! Tony's always going to see everyone when they have a bad day_', McGee even told me that there was this time when you told him you peed your pants just so he'd feel better, and here I was, thinking _but who makes Tony feel better? _and there was no answer, so I came!" Abby stopped, breathed, and noticed Tony's appearance. "Why are you answering the door with a gun in one hand and a drink in the other?"

Tony took another sip of his drink before letting the tall goth enter his home and close the door after her.

"Wow, Tony, I've never seen you drink anything other than Club-Sodas, Cokes and Beers. This seems fancy! Can I analyze it?"

"You're not taking this to your lab, but I can make you one, Abbs," Tony replied, smiling. The last remnants of his previous daydream were evanescing.

"What is it called?"

Tony paused a second, realizing the irony in what he was about to say. Slowly shaking his head, he answered. "It's a Godfather."

"You're kidding ! Tony! Are you trying to give a theme to your day or something?"

And Tony laughed. It felt good. So he put his SIG back in the drawer facing the door and slid his arm on Abby's shoulders, giving her a one armed hug.

"Make yourself at home, Abbs, I'm gonna bring you something to sleep in."

"No need, I've come prepared this time." She showed him her large black bag on which skeletons were drawn having a party and winked. "Not that I didn't like sleeping in your boxers. Oh, and I had to wash the t-shirt I stole from you to sleep with your scent when I'm scared, so if you realize that something's missing from your closet tomorrow, just know that it's just little Abby striking again!"

And then she sat, propped her feet on the table and started rummaging through her bag. Tony was already launching his Mary Poppins comparisons when she took out one, then two spoons, followed by a huge tub of ice-cream in one of those cool plastic bags that kept the cold.

"Abbigail Sciuto, you'll never cease to amaze me."

"I don't know if it goes well with _Godfathers_, but ice cream is the universal remedy to all love or other funk problems. True story. You can google it."

"We can insult men and it would be just like in Sex and the city!" Tony faked a high pitched voice as he sat next to his best friend.

"Shotgun I'm not Carry!"

"What? She's the principal character!"

"So what, she's the less cool, original, or funny of them."

"That's harsh. You're just jealous because she gets Big at the end."

"Nu-uh. Well. Maybe. He _is_ tall, handsome and a bit mysterious. Oh my God, you totally are Big!"

"What! I wanted to be Samantha! And if you really want to know, I _am_ big," he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Silently, Tony was apologizing for earlier. Abby burst out laughing, nearly choking on the spoon she had just put in her mouth and he received the message loud and clear. _It's okay Tony, just relax, tonight I have your six._

_._

They slept en woke up too late - hence the running and the Abby-"Ive never ever been late to work before!"-panicking. Tony left her at the lab and decided to take the stairs to the bullpen.

"I'm trying to call him but he's not answering boss," McGee was saying with a phone against his ear and typing furiously on his computer.

"I could go to his apartment." Ziva said, already up an reaching for her SIG.

"Boss, voicemail again."

"Gibbs, do you want me to go?"

"Boss, what do we do now?"

"I can be there in 20 minutes."

"Enough."

Gibbs's voice shut them both. He had just sat down but wasn't looking at any of them. He'd just noticed his senior field agent, looking perplexed, by the stairs. His other two agents turned to follow his unblinking - and kind of creepy - gaze.

"Tony?" McGee - always the observer - said.

"Oh. I'm in trouble, ain't I?"

"You're late, DiNozzo."

"Well, yes boss, about that-"

Ziva sighed and went back to her desk, punching not-so-lightly Tony before she sat. McGee just shook his head and did the same, but he wouldn't even look at him in the eyes. Gibbs, on the other hand, was still watching him. Well, it was going to be such a nice day.

.

The next two days passed in a blur, they had a bad guy to catch, and he was pretty good at hiding from them. As usual, McGee tracked his cellphone/computer/mails or whatever electronic adding machine the suspect had on him, and then Ziva popped up from nowhere when he was about to run for it. At 2000 hours Friday night, they had closed the case, written their reports, and were just waiting for Gibbs to give them the green light to go home. It couldn't have been more perfect for Tony. He wouldn't even need to go home. It was an hour drive to Baltimore, he'd be there before Achenza was getting up from the dinner table. Gave him just enough time to talk to the boys outside first. Carmine had always told him he didn't have to talk to the soldiers, but Tony always did. And he knew Achenza actually liked it. A good leader had to be present on every front, in every mind.

"You want to go grab a beer, Tony?"

And McGee had to ruin everything. Damn him, the Junior Agent _had _to try and overcome his issues with Tony the night the Senior Agent couldn't. He had uttered the inviting words shyly, as if he wasn't sure what Tony's answer would be - or worse - as if he didn't know what he himself wanted it to be. Tony had already thrown his bag over his shoulder and was ready to go. He turned slowly to face McGee, who, at his desk, looked terribly small and hesitant. Damn him again. McGee was trying to come to him.

"Oh yes, we haven't been to the bar together for a long time."

Oh Ziva. She was probably only trying to help. Tagging along with them would make it less awkward for McGee. Give and impression of casualty. Try and hide the neon pink elephant in the room.

"Sorry people, I can't tonight. But hold on to that thought probablicious, it's a good one."

"Hot date, DiNozzo?" came the voice of Gibbs from higher behind their desks.

The three agents turned to see their boss mid-stairs, leaning on the ramp and probably listening to them. His skepticism was palpable.

"You know it boss. We good to go?"

Tony could feel the stare of his boss on his neck, but didn't want to acknowledge it. Gibbs nodded, and Tony flew.

"Is it Mona again, Tony?" Ziva asked, apparently unable to just leave room to silence.

Tony smiled to himself. Wasn't this his role she was trying to fill? Did he get bad at playing pretend all of a sudden?

"Nah, as it appears, Mona just wasn't the one!"

"Oh I can see your heart breaking, Tony," Ziva said ironically.

He winked at her and she nodded her head in response.

They were inside the elevator when Gibbs's voice made them hold the doors open. He jogged to Tony quickly and looked him in the eyes. His hand reached the younger Field Agent between his cheek and his jaw and stayed there.

"You don't do anything stupid, DiNozzo. You hear me?"

The ride down was silent.

.

Tony changed his plans to go to his apartment first. He was not going to Achenza with a wrinkled and dirtied suit. Chasing after a perp was not the cleanest activity. It involved sweating, falling on dirt, pushing poor people away and yelling a lot. And DiNocci was known to have the casual yet perfect facade. A dirtied suit meant that he'd had to make an effort while DiNocci was supposed to achieve anything he wanted without so much as a nod or a flick of the wrist. Once, he'd had to break a guy's wrist. On the official reports, it had been to assert his position among the soldiers of the famiglia. Yeah right. The guy was a bully that was beating his wife and shoving kids around. Tony had taken the first stupid reason to lunge at him, and even then he did it without breaking a sweat. Poor guy tried to fight back exactly five seconds before running away with his tail tucked between his legs. Tony should have kept an eye on him from the start. Tatallia may have not had any opportunity with Francesca then. Maybe he wouldn't be dead.

It was 2230 hours, and he was there. He parked his car in front of the house, not once hesitating when he saw the five men sitting outside the house, playing cards on a low stool, looking at him suspiciously. When he got out, three of said men got up. They were not even trying to be discrete in their observation. They rearranged their shirts so that the guns were more obvious. Tony smiled. Amateurs. The two that didn't move were older. Tony knew them, and more importantly, they knew Tony. The Agent ignored the three guarding dogs and directly addressed one of the sitting men. The only one he knew by name.

"Call Alceo. Tell him I've arrived."

"And who the hell are you?" Doggy n°1 asked, apparently wanting to start a fight and trying to find an excuse for it. _You just try_.

"Shut up," Tony said without turning to look at the kid. Doggy n°2 was apparently smarter, as he was already dialing after a nod from the man Tony'd spoken to. He walked away to talk without being heard, and DiNozzo brought his attention back to the only man he really knew.

"Looking good Lorenzo."

"Looking alive, Tonio." His unblinking gaze was not the most welcoming one. And his seemingly neutral words sounded like threats. "Weird how I can see you in front of me but still remember carrying your gasket to your grave."

Tony wanted to sigh and rub his eyes. He gave a cold smile instead. DiNocci -when he existed- was always followed by a little group of men that were to listen to him only. Lorenzo had been one of them. He was born and bred in the famiglia and knew everything there was to know about it. He had helped Tony on more than one occasion whitout even knowing it. Watching Lorenzo act had helped Tony analyse the workings of the famiglia. And Lorenzo had warmed up to him pretty quickly. Nobody could resist the DiNozzo charm. Tony would probably never have been accepted in the family this fast was it not for him. In the first few weeks of his undercover, Lorenzo would even invite Tony home sometimes to have dinner with his wife an kids just because he didn't want to let Tony go home and eat alone.

Thinking back to these days could make Tony go all fuzzy and mushy inside. Once you were in the Family, every one treated you like a brother or a son. Tony could have forgotten why he had been there in the first place. But the Agent never forgot that Lorenzo was different to those outside the circle. He was a cold-blooded killer before anything else. He was one of the best henchmen Achenza had. A scary, scary soldier. Tony had dreamt of Lorenzo planting the big kitchen knife he used to cut the turkey in his back more than once. Tony had dreamt of a lot of very naughty stuff that year.

"Oh haven't you heard, I'm an NCIS Agent now," he eventually answered in his usual flippant tone.

Did Tony really have a death wish? Sometimes even he thought his mouth was too big for his good. Lorenzo finally got up, his eyes speaking of violence. Tony didn't even blink.

"Anthony, you're really here," a new voice interrupted.

The little smile playing on DiNozzo's lips got wider. He turned to face the newcomers. They were six, and the closer was the only one Tony had actually wanted to see.

" Alceo."

.

The poor man apparently didn't know how to react. Tony understood. DiNocci and Alceo Peasci had been as close as brothers for 6 months of their respective lives. They were close in age and it had naturally brought them closer very early in Tony's assignment, before he even got to talk to Carmine. And then DiNocci became more and more important, and Peasci decided to act as his own personal bodyguard. Tony observed the man with attention. When they'd first met, Alceo had been a short man that could have described the typical Italian American petty thug. He had brown hair with too much gel, brown eyes, wore black wife-beaters, had a gold chain around his neck and a ignominious man ring that nearly made Tony cry in shock. 9 years later, Alceo was still short, but he wore his hair back and had exchanged his ' _Italian Gangsta' _clothes for a nice grey suit that made him look calmer and more experienced. Doggy 1, 2 and 3 here should follow his lead. Tony sighed inside. Alceo had been a lost puppy that had followed his brother into the family a mere month before Tony's arrival. Just a lost kid that wasn't really linked to the family's activities yet and that was afraid of men like Lorenzo. Tony had wanted to save him. Now it seemed Alceo was Lorenzo's boss.

"You look good," Tony said, trying not to let his disappointment show.

"Are you here to arrest us?" Was Alceo's hesitant but defiant reply. Tony thought he recognized the kid he'd known in the way Alceo tried to hide his hurt and anger. The Agent could practically see the short man stamp his feet and yell at Tony like a teenage girl that felt betrayed.

"Why, have you killed any Marines lately?" It felt wrong saying it. Implying that he would close his eyes on anything else he would see that night. Knowing that he really would.

Alceo's eyes were still cautiously gauging him, and Tony let them do. His hands casually dug into his pockets, he looked like he had no cares in the world. He let his eyes wander to the men behind his old friend. Once upon a time, he just called them "the boys". He nodded and smiled at them as if they were just randomly meeting at the supermarket. The Agnesini brothers were there -the three of them - along with little Deledda, Zorzetti and Pironi.

"Where's Agostino?" Tony asked when he noticed that the man was missing. He'd asked for all of them to come meet him.

"He's dead." Aldo Deledda answered, talking for the first time. He said it as if he was defying Tony to say anything to that.

"A cop shot him," Zorzetti added, shaking slowly his head. Then looking back up, he shrugged. "How you doing, Anthonio?"

Tony shrugged back. Damn, but being called like that brought him back. However, he let a little smile lit his face, he knew he liked Zorzetti. Febo was five years younger -a lifetime in their job- and had once admired Tony as if he was God itself. Again, the DiNozzo Charm.

Deledda shot a dark look at Febo, as if rebuking him for having talked civilly to the traitor.

"What, I'm happy he's not dead. I don't care what he does," Zorzetti grumbled in answer, shrugging.

"I'm happy you're not dead either, kid," Tony answered before Aldo could add anything.

The Senior Field Agent could feel himself slip in his own ways.

"Who's in there ?" He asked, gesturing at the house.

"Why would we tell you?" Deledda spat back.

"I'm gonna ask nicely again. Once. And this time someone better answer me. Who's in there?" DiNocci was back alright.

"Father, Francesca, Joseph and Emilio are having dinner." The younger Agnesini brother answered and then looked at Alceo to see if it was alright. His boss nodded.

_Nope at this time they're in the Red room enjoying a nice little glass of red wine. _But Tony didn't say that.

"Wait, _Emilio_ has taken my place?"

"No. Michael had taken your place, but he disappeared after a few months," Alceo explained.

"Maybe he was a cop too," Deledda suggested slyly.

Tony could sense the increasing tension in Aldo's words, and he hadn't forgotten that there were three eager rookies behind his back and Lorenzo (aka Lorenzo Say-Your-Prayers) that was apparently still seething. Things could turn ugly.

"No he wasn't," Lorenzo intervened from behind him. Tony didn't turn around. "He's dead"

"How do you know?" Aldo asked Lorenzo vehemently.

"I just know."

In Lorenzo's words, that meant that Michael'd had to _say his prayers_ too at one point. Huh. So Achenza had gotten tired of the first capo that'd replaced DiNocci.

"Okay then, who's going in with me?"

Not every soldier was allowed inside. And Tony knew he had to go in with someone so they could take his guns before he entered the room with Achenza.

"Wait, who told you you could just come and barge in like that? You're not the capo anymore - you're nothing here! And you probably shouldn't have come here alone tonight."

"Is that a threat Aldo?" Tony's voice was still calm but he drew closer and lowered his head without breaking eye contact. He bent his head forward, slightly tilting it to show the side of his face, as if he was asking Deledda to say it again in his ear.

Tony hadn't only noticed the few potential threats. He had also noticed the black sedan with tainted windows parked at the beginning of the street and the large grey van with equally opaque windows parked a few cars away. It smelt Feds from miles away. Tony only hoped it wasn't that Sticks idiot. Or worse, his favorite suited nemesis, the beloved Agent Slack. Yes he would always call him that. If they didn't ruin everything by blazing in all guns drawn, maybe Tony could still count them as back-ups. He doubted it, but a guy could hope.

Aldo stumbled back but didn't break the staring contest. He didn't add anything though.

"I may have been gone for 9 years. I may even be a cop. But in this family, _I_ am and always will be over your head. Nobody can talk to me that way, and when I ask a question, you lower your head, answer me and go down on your knees to make my shoes shine. In easy words for your brain to understand: I own your ass, so don't ever talk back to me again." Tony crept up a bit closer and murmured to the rebellious soldier's ear, "Or else you're dead."

"Anthonio, I'll come with you." Alceo finally intervened, probably trying to break the tension or to avoid someone being killed. Tony had already put his smiley face back on.

.

Together, they turned on their heels and entered the Achenza property. Tony didn't acknowledge Joseph when he passed him and felt the burning stare of the older man on his back. At the threshold stood a young man that asked Tony to leave his gun to Alceo if he wanted to go in. Huh, in his times, you didn't give away your guns before you had to enter the very room Carmine was in. Now it was the whole house. _Having some trust issues, Carmine_?

Tony gave his SIG but not before taking the bullets from it. Alceo smiled at the precaution.

"Don't even pretend you don't have anything else on you."

"I wasn't gonna."

There was a knife attached to his ankle -rule number 9- and a back-up gun. Alceo was about to go when Tony stopped him. He still had something to give. He took a last look at the grey van that he could still see parked outside and slowly detached his gold NCIS badge from his hip holster.

There was nothing official about what he was about to do.

.

.

"Gibbs."

Gibbs's voice was raucous when he answered the phone. Getting up on his elbow, he reached for his watch on his bedside table and swore silently. Fornell was waking him up at 4am. And Fornell knew he didn't like to be woken up.

"Why is your boy at the Achenzas, Gibbs?"

This time, he swore out loud.

"Doing his job, Tobias, is that so unusual down at the Hoover Building that you have to call me at 4?"

"You're telling me you sent him there?"

"Did I get fired during the night? I'm still his boss, right?"

"Don't be a smart-ass. We know all about his involvement with the Famiglia, we know how close he got to them. 9 years later he spends 5 minutes in a room with Achenza and goes running back to him."

"What are you trying to tell me, Fornell?"

Gibbs was perfectly alert now, and while his guts were churning like there was no tomorrow, he could still read the tone of his old friend's voice. He didn't like it. "Insinuating DiNozzo's gone rogue?"

"But you tell me that you're the one that sent him in there, is that right?"

"I'm not repeating myself. You have problems with your earwig, you go see a doctor."

"Woke up on the wrong foot?" Fornell said, and Gibbs could practically see the FBI agent's sarcastic smile. "What did you send him in for?"

"Information."

"What information?"

"The one you're trying to get by turning the head of the damn Baltimore Mafia into an informant. How could you think that would work out, by the way?"

"Not my case, I'm only calling you because I drew the short straw."

"Goodnight Fornell."

"- and because I thought you'd like to know something else."

"What?" Gibbs growled, impatient.

"He went in there at 22:34 and still hasn't left."

Gibbs had jumped out of his bed before Fornell had shut his mouth. He was already putting his sweater on. It had been more than 5 hours.

"He's not dead," the NCIS agent said anyway.

"I didn't sa-"

"No Fornell, he is **not** dead."

"Your spidey senses tell you that?"

Gibbs didn't answer. He'd always felt that if something happened to his Senior Field Agent, he would _know _somehow. He'd be damned if he was proved wrong that night.

"Did you have any contact with him tonight?" Fornell asked when he sensed how tensed his old friend was.

"No."

Gibbs had already his shoes on.

"Sending him in with no back-ups?"

Fornell knew there had been no mission. Gibbs was just covering Tony's ass. How could his agent just walk into the house of a mafia boss that was under investigation? He had taught him better than that. Tony was so getting slapped back into his senses next time he'd see him. The Team Leader took his car keys and a jacket off the back of a chair while trying not to let go off his phone and opened the door.

"Going somewhere?"

Fornell clapped his cellphone shut. Gibbs snarled. The FBI agent was sitting on one of the chairs of the front porch, looking smug as hell. His face sobered when he saw his old friend's expression.

"You're not barging in at Achenza's to get your little protege back."

"Are you asking or telling me?"

"DiNozzo's crafty, he'll be okay. I'm here to make sure you don't screw everything up."

"He's an NCIS agent under my responsibility. You don't have a say in what I do."

Fornell had apparently been waiting for this. He smiled, reached for a yellow envelope that hadn't been noticed and gave it to his old friend as if it was the his answer. Gibbs didn't like that. As it appeared, there was a lot of things that Gibbs didn't like that night.

He opened the envelope and got three pictures out. They were over-zoomed surveillance pictures. The first one showed Tony giving up his gun to a man he'd analyse later with another one watching. _Damn it, DiNozzo you went in without ammo?_ The second one had him placing his knife in the hands of the shorter guy and looking around. But the last one… the last one made Gibbs freeze. _You idiot._

DiNozzo was staring straight at the photographer and beyond, at Gibbs. Of course Tony would have made the FBI men directly. And yet he wasn't giving them his back. He wasn't trying to hide his actions. He _wanted _them to know.

That he'd let his NCIS badge at the doors.

"I don't think he went in there as an _NCIS agent under your responsibility_." Fornell had to add.

.

Anthony took his time, walking through the corridors of the large mansion. His head held high, he was looking straight ahead, eyes never wavering when someone randomly passed him and stared. He didn't need to stop and explain his presence. He didn't need to stop and ask his way. He didn't need anything. He looked like he owned the place. The sound of his heels clapping the ground echoed with a metronome precision. He passed a hand through his hair when he turned at a corner. The familiar faint smell of wood was burning his nostrils. And there he was. The carved door leading to his past was just in front of him. He adjusted his sleeves, smoothed his shirt. Perfect. Without marking a second's pause in his walk, he opened the large double-doors. He was back**.**

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><p><strong>So, liked it ?<strong>

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	5. Chapter 5 - He is good

Uh.. Wow ! Once again, thanks to all those who took the time to review, you people rock and make me want to keep going on.

I can't wait to hear what you think of the new character you'll meet in this chapter!

One more think : **do you have any idea where I can find a beta-reader to check my spelling and other mistakes before I post the chapter? **I know there's a list of them on the site, but I already contacted three of them ( a few weeks ago ) with absolutely no answers so..

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><p>.<p>

It was late. Maybe 4 in the morning. Tony was still studying the files Joseph had given him. Fortunately, Joseph was old school and had everything he needed on paper. Tony hated to stare at a computer screen for hours. Gave him headaches.

There were pictures and several notes. Numbers and contracts. He'd been back for an hour when he was already given enough information to cause serious damage to a lot of naughty people (Achenza's associates). Maybe it was because Carmine wasn't afraid of what it would cause if Tony took his keys, his jacket, the files, and went to NCIS. He wouldn't even try to stop him. Or maybe it was just because Father knew Tony wouldn't do anything like that. And Tony hated that he was right. He couldn't do anything to them. Not when Francesca's name was written all over the file Joseph had given him a minute ago.

"It will be Francesca's first deal." He'd said, and Tony knew Carmine hadn't asked his Consigliere to give _that _file to Tony. But there Joseph was, handing him a heavy envelope and looking more than his age. "I'm sorry Anthony. I wish..." He paused, and Tony didn't move to reach for the file.

Sitting at his desk, he just looked at Joseph who was standing still by his side. The old man chose to finally just put it on the desk himself. He paused again for a few seconds but just ended up leaving, rubbing the back of his neck and leaving his sentence unfinished.

Tony had stopped everything he was doing to read through what was about to be Cesca's first deal. Joseph had done all the legwork. Probably wanted to make it easier for his successor. It was an easy deal. Tony had planned dozens of them when he'd become the _capo_ of Father, years back. The only delicate thing was that there were new buyers involved and they wanted to become regulars. There were a few pictures of the leader and his goons. It was just a small gang. A few Latino kids that should be laying the table for their mothers at home but were instead trying to prove they were big boys too. The leader was older. Tony hated him at sight.

There were rules in the mafia. It was paradoxical, but there were. And there were principles too. They were nearly as sacred as God's ones. But these little gangs had nothing. No values, no laws, no limits. Tony read the file about _Santiago Munoz_ and wondered how Carmine could have agreed to that. Nine years ago, Carmine would have bitch slapped the first guy he'd have seen selling drugs to kids. Now he was doing business with them? The more he read, the less he liked it. These guys were petty thugs with a tendency to be violent for no reason. Redflags rose every two lines in Tony's mind. They had precedent. The majority of the members had been in Juve or had been arrested for possession, robbery or violence.

A the end of the last page was a date and an hour. A meeting was scheduled a week later. Tony had been lucky to come back when he had. He got up and stretched. He was alone in the large study. It was all wood and leather around him, and he took a second to take the peculiar scent in. Sometimes he'd dreamt of this place, and when every detail of it had been etched into his brain to give him the most perfect memory, he'd always felt that something was missing. It had been the scent. He took another deep breath and walked out.

.

.

He sensed her presence before he could see her. She didn't talk to him at first, but she followed him silently. They were on the first floor and Tony had wanted to go downstairs and find Carmine -he knew the man wouldn't be asleep on the night his _son_ had returned- but ended up turning left instead of taking the stairs. He opened the second door on his right without hesitation, as if he'd never left the house. He entered the little living room that was usually reserved to the soldiers that had the authorization (and honor) to come inside. He heard the key turn in the lock, and Tony smiled. Just with that, he knew she hadn't changed.

He turned around and she was just _there_, two inches away from him. He hadn't heard her move, but then again, he never did. He took a second to observe her, she was so obviously doing the same it didn't matter. He noticed how the angles had become soft curbs and made himself look away. Her long dark hair was down, and memories of past him passing his hand through it to grab her neck and bring her face to him flashed in his mind.

"_Ciao_, Elena."

"_Ciao,_ Anthonio." Her voice was smooth, inviting.

She wasn't finished studying him, so he just stood there and let her do with a small amused smile. After a few seconds he remembered the little liquor cabinet that should be around there somewhere and went to it, casually looking around. It was exactly where he'd last seen it. He opened it -nothing fancy in there-, took two bottles out anyway, and then two glasses. He didn't need to ask her what she drank. He was pouring his own glass when he felt the coldness of a blade on the back of his neck. His movement stopped, his hand mid-air, the sound of the pouring liquid interrupted. Then he forced his body to relax.

"I guess you heard, huh?"

"That you are a Federal Agent? Yes I did."

He had forgotten the velvet quality of her voice. He felt her breath on his ear and blocked the flow of images that threatened to come flooding his mind. He finished pouring his glass and turned around, not caring about the blade that burnt his skin as he moved. He would probably wear the scar around his neck for a few weeks. Turtles necks were so out-of-mode, he sighed. The blade was now waiting on his throat. Tony swallowed just to see its point go up and down with the movement of his Adam apple. The silence was heavy with memories, it gave every move or occasional sound a tantalizing quality. He had forgotten that her eyes could cast spells.

"Are you back?"

"Would it change anything about the fact that I'm an Agent?"

"Yes. Are you back?"

"Did you miss me?"

Their eyes were locked and he could see the fire dancing under her long lashes and the life in her every facial expression. Seconds passed. They didn't even blink. And then... she smiled, apparently amused, before she finally put the knife back in its hiding place underneath her clothes. She drew closer and her catlike ways reminded him of previous physical closeness, of long backless dresses, of Ziva and of so many things he didn't want to be thinking about. And yet he could feel his heart beating steadily and his body relaxed. Something in him was relieved that that was all he was feeling. The pull to her was still there, of course -it would take a rock not to be attracted- but he was in control.

"Carmine thinks you can come back. How could that be?"

Tony shrugged and handed her her glass. She took it, and sipped from it without needing to check what it was.

"Carmine thinks a lot of things."

"You're here for Francesca, aren't you?"

Tony didn't answer. There were running images in the back of his mind. Cesca jumping on his back, Elena laughing with her while her eyes spoke other -more passionate- words to him.

"I should have understood you were undercover," she said after a few seconds during which the only conversation held was told by their locked gazes.

"Don't blame yourself, I'm just that good," he answered with a little smirk that made her smile back.

She was drawing dangerously close. He breathed her sent in and felt the tip of her fingers caress the inside of his hand, sending sparks in the pit of his stomach. They were slowly making their way up and around, soon reaching the back of his neck to play with his hair while her face momentarily nested in the hollow of his shoulder.

"No... I should have understood that you _couldn't_..." She stopped mid-sentence

He could feel the excitation spreading throughout his body, seizing his muscles and rendering him tense when seconds before his lean body was relaxed in the confidence that he had the situation under control. He could remember each and every time they had been in such a position, when he'd had to restrain himself despite the heavy attraction oozing from both of them. He had been on a mission. There were rules, a protocol.

"You are not undercover anymore."

"No, that, I am not."

He could feel her smile on his neck, and as soon as the words had left his lips, the warm wetness of an expert tongue tickled his skin, followed by kisses moving toward his mouth. The moment their lips met each other, all his muscles contracted and his hand, around her back, pulled her closer in a movement nearly independent of his will. Her body seemed to melt against his.

He was hot then cold. Chills ran up his spine and the hand that was now sliding down his torso made his stomach twist in heated but bewitching apprehension. He took the control of the kiss when he pulled back, the moan that escaped her making him smile while he took his time leaving feather like touches around her lips. He followed her jaw line to her ear and opened his mouth to let his tongue gently attack the skin. She purred. The sound of his low and warm chuckle made her open her eyes to find his. Her brown eyes talked heat, passion and amusement. He tried to draw back but sensing his movement, she quickly moved her head to be the one whispering at his ear.

"_Che cosa desideri?_" He smiled again, because that was what he did best, even though he felt like literally sweeping her off her feet and taking everything she'd give him. Against a wall, on the floor or on the large table a few feet away. Her left hand had stopped on his lower stomach and was now fingering his belt. Fingers slipped under his waistband and pictures of her skin against his, of her hand in his mouth and of his lips against her neck burst in the front of his mind. His heart was pounding in his chest, echoing in his ears, and yet the silence of the room was deafening. She was looking at him, her eyes never wavering as she caressed his neck with one tantalizing hand while the other kept moving further down. He knew she wouldn't go much further, not her style, but in one swift movement, he interrupted her descending movement and _smiled_. Because that was what he did when he was torn and resisted to the things he wanted the most. He forced the mental pictures away, because he couldn't do that now. It was not the time. And the table was probably not sturdy enough. Not for them.

"I want a lot of things, Elena." He whispers. And she licks her lips with her eyes locked with his.

"Some you can have."

There's a twinkle in his eyes as he draws back. She doesn't follow him this time. He still hasn't released the hand that had been making its way down. He raises it over her head instead, and she spins and chuckles. When they stop, they look at each other again, and Tony has the feeling that it is all they ever do. In her eyes he can see that she too has the music of past parties and balls in mind. Carmine would always make Tony ask Elena for the first dance. And she'd spin, whirl and move under the hands controlling the easy sway of her hips. _His_ hands.

He hears footsteps in the corridor, and the past fades away along with the dream-like and yet painstakingly real atmosphere that has intoxicated them both for a moment. He plays a last time with the fingers still intertwined with his, bringing them to his lips for a second, and she withdraws her hand.

.

Tony let Elena leave the room before him, because it wouldn't have been polite to walk away and leave her alone like a mistress he was ashamed of. He took a few seconds to finish his glass before taking the files he had previously left on the table. He opened the only folder that really mattered to him and the surveillance picture of Santiago Munoz talking in the phone greeted him immediately. His guts clenched again, and the last remnants of the previous and hypnotizing encounter vanished instantly. Francesca.

Folders in hand, he opened the door and marched to Carmine Achenza's office.

This time he did stop a second when he found himself staring at the large wooden door that led to Father's own little den. Last time he had been in there, the stench of bleach was still burning his nostrils. Who knew cleaning up a bloodied parquet would be so difficult, huh? Now was not the time to think about Tatallia. As he pushed open the door, he felt himself clench and unclench his fists anyway. Carmine was there, perfectly alert despite it being nearly 5 in the morning - as the clock on his desk read. Tony didn't realize he hadn't thought the hours in the military way he was used to. It was not 0500, it was 5 A.M.

Sitting on the large leather chair, the way Father barely raised his head to see him enter reminded Tony of the identical reception he'd received from Carmine earlier in the evening. Tony had opened the door and everyone in the Red Room had immediately turned towards him. No one could just barge in on Carmine Achenza and his family after dinner. With one look, Tony had scanned the place, noticing that Emilio seemed fifteen years older than when he'd last seen him, that Joseph had sighed in what Tony thought was relief when he saw him and that Francesca was not there. The book that he'd spotted on the low glass table in front of the fireplace told him she'd been there and had left a few moments ago. Father had barely moved. He'd been in the same leather chair he always sat on, not too close to the fire but not totally in the shadows of the corners either. Tony had also noticed how it was Joseph that was sitting next to Emilio, talking to him in hushed tones and away from Father. It could have meant nothing, but Tony'd sensed otherwise.

"Ah, you're late," Carmine had said, leaving the book he'd been reading on the closest table. And Tony had raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Emilio had gotten up suddenly, as if it had been an afterthought to the shock of seeing Anthonio entering the room in flesh. Tony had closed the doors behind him and let himself in, going directly to where Emilio was awkwardly standing, not knowing how to react. And Anthony'd smiled and opened his arms as if they'd been long lost brothers.

"Emilio, look at you!" He'd said, tapping the other _grown-man'_s cheek.

And Tony could sense that the man had wanted to push his hands away and draw back, but he hadn't. The hesitant twitch of his lips had been a tentative fake smile, and Tony could appreciate the effort. _He's not half bad_. Tony'd known his patronizing ways weren't lost on anyone, but he'd kept on smiling anyway, asking about how Emilio's little boy was. "Not so little anymore, I guess." he'd added in that fake joking voice of his. _Remind them you know their families_. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Carmine's approving smile, and it had made him want to both hurl and sneer.

"Did you enjoy your reading?" Carmine asked sweetly, bringing Tony back to the present.

"Joseph is getting old and Emilio isn't cautious enough." Was Anthony's blunt answer.

And there it was again. The satisfaction in Carmine's eyes. He was pleased Tony had already discovered something, even if he didn't know what yet. He didn't even seem to care that his organization had just been insulted. He was glad Tony could show them all off so soon. He was _proud_ of his son.

"You have a snitch."

He didn't need to tell Father how he knew. That he'd been reviewing all this year's reports and deals and that he'd noticed a pattern in every loss they had counted.

"Who?"

"I'm good, not superman."

"Joseph will give you any list of names you need. When you have the name, give it to Lorenzo."

Tony snorted.

"So that's how you deal with things now."

"I didn't say what Lorenzo would do with the information," Carmine said, faking a defensive shrug of innocence. And then his lips stretched on his face in what was supposedly a smile, but Tony could see that the man's eyes were too cold to even pretend. It would have sent chills running down Tony's spine, was the younger man not used to the expression already. He had been rendered numb to it. He'd seen it one too many times on his own reflection.

"I'm going to find the name. And I'm going to deal with him myself."

"Are you going to _arrest_ him?" Came a third, feminine voice.

Elena had just entered the room, nearly without a sound. Her smile was sarcastic and yet amused. She walked, no, she _glided_ past him -grazing him with her arm- to Carmine's desk, on which she casually perched herself, giving her back to Father to observe Tony with a raised eyebrow and the remnant of a pleased grin. Tony walked to one of the two chairs facing the desk and sat without waiting for any invitation. He was "_home"_, after all.

"_I_ find him, _I _choose how to take care of him. If Lorenzo goes anywhere near my business, I will have to deal with him too."

His words were casual but definitely resolute. Carmine stayed silence for a few seconds, probably trying to judge how serious Tony was. And Tony let him, because this time there was no game in his meaning. He would be _happy_, to deal with it. Their eyes were locked for long but few seconds, and Carmine gave a nod.

"I don't want Emilio to know either."

"Do you doubt him?" Carmine stance had changed a bit. As had his tone. Emilio had been his capo (by default) for many years. If he'd been a snitch, Carmine would have found out.

"No. But Emilio is just a kid."

Elena chuckled and leaned back on the desk, finding a paper knife to play with. Tony let his eyes rest on the moving silver knife she fingered with a teasing care, smoothly slipping the tip of her middle finger from the base to the point.

"Emilio is your age, Anthonio," she said, and he could hear her smile without looking at her face.

It was his turn to smile, and he raised his gaze to find her intently watching him, probably having noticed -and enjoying- the attention he had been giving her movements. She was voluptuous and dangerous. A deadly combination when he was concerned.

"Yes. But I'm _good_."

And Carmine leaned back on his chair, crossed his fingers, and laughed.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**So... What did you think?**

**Elena : liked or hated ?**

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	6. Chapter 6

Hi everyone, I'm sorry this one took so long, but I've asked a beta to take a first look after I finished writing it, so naturally it took longer to be ready. I'm doing this so you can read without being bothered with my stupid mistakes, hope I'm forgiven.  
>To <strong>HuntinPudel<strong>, the generous soul that offered to help, « mille mercis » as they say in French. I couldn't have hoped for more.

Well, that being said, there's nothing left to do but read. Shall we ?

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He was in _his_ room, on the third floor of the Famiglia's large house, when he finally allowed himself to unleash the erratic thoughts he'd been trying to reign in all day long. The fresh sheets and the burning fire on the old chimney were proof enough that Carmine had indeed been expecting him back. Tony didn't know how to feel about it. There were so many different emotions battling in his chest lately that he didn't know _anything_ anymore. He had entered the bedroom as one enters a beloved place they'd had to leave a long time ago. His five senses were trying to register every detail they could, and this involuntary reaction to simply entering a room told Tony so many things he didn't want to acknowledge that he decided to just ignore them all. That's when he heard the footsteps, and he knew instantly who it would be. Because Carmine'd often follow him when he retired to his room at night. They would talk some more about what had happened lately or their suspicions on a soldier or another. The first time Carmine had showed up at his door, Tony had thought DiNocci was a dead man. But it had slowly become a ritual of some sort. The fact that Father was there that night meant that he was truly welcoming his son back.

"There is something you didn't tell me earlier," Carmine began, not beating around the bush.

"Yes. Santiago Munoz is bad news and Francesca is not going anywhere near him."

"Are you asking or telling me?"

"Would I ever dare _telling you_ anything?"

Carmine chuckled and leaned back against a wall. He was tall, still strong and didn't even seem fifty-five when actually he was more than ten years older. Tony couldn't help but mentally sigh. He would probably not die from old age just now. It would solve all their problems though. "_You know I can kill without leaving a trace,"_ the teasing voice of a forensic scientist he knew reminded him in his mind. He couldn't _think_ her name. He didn't want it to be even mentally uttered in such a place, amongst such thoughts. She deserved better than his head at this moment in time.

"You say you are here for Francesca, Anthony. You think you can make me change my plans for her to become consigliere. But this would mean finding her a replacement just as good."

Carmine's stare was piercing, he was pushing him to say it. To say that _he_ would do it. That he'd come back for good and take her place.

"I can find better than good."

The satisfied smirk on Carmine's lips and the little approving nod made him clench and unclench the right fist casually dug into his pocket. Carmine didn't need to hear anything more. He cocked his head to bid good night and left without a word added. Turning back to take a look at his temporary room, he sighed. Everything was as he remembered it. The room had probably been sealed at his _death_. There were no signs of anyone else having lived in it. Not any guests. Not Emilio. How paradoxical that this thought pleased him, when he had hated that room with all his soul. The several nights that Tony had spent there as DiNocci had not been the most restful ones. The first time he had been invited to stay for the night was after a big reunion with all the other minor _capo_s, Carmine, and his three sons. It had gone on well into the night and Carmine had come to Antonio before he could grab his coat. "I've had a room prepared for you. It's late, go sleep." And from then on, every time Tony stayed late, he would find his coat gone from where he had hung it and Carmine would send him a meaningful glance to tell him his room was ready and waiting for him. By the end, Tony had not even tried to leave anymore. By the end, it was not only on late nights. "_Please Tonio, stay the night. I'm… I'm bored when you leave_." The hesitating voice of Cesca rang in his ears as he slowly undressed. _"You could tutor me this week, I have a History test on monday, __you're not leaving right?_" His hands trembled as he unfolded the corner of his bed. "_Tonio, you won't leave tonight either, right? For me, you'll stay, right?_"He should have understood that Cesca had been trying to tell him something. That she was really afraid. That she had sensed the attention of one of her Papa's men.

Maybe Tatallia wouldn't be dead if he'd understood sooner.

As he slid between the sheets wearing only his boxers and reached out to turn the lights off he stopped a second and turned his attention to the room once again. He had slipped into this sheets as easily as he'd slipped back into this life. Anthony DiNocci's life. Or maybe was it Anthony DiNozzo Jr's? _What am I doing,_ he thought, questioning himself. When the flashing memories of Cesca laughing, teasing, and running to him came rushing back at the front of his mind, he remembered. He was doing whatever he'd have to do.

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He woke up at around 9 a.m, mentally unable to sleep more even if his body demanded sleep and rest. A woman appeared at his doorstep not ten minutes later and walked in shyly when he assured her he was awake and she was not disturbing him.

"Agent DiNozzo, you are expected in the Blue Room for breakfast, sir"

_Of course I am. _The use of his title was a nice touch, compliments of Father no doubt. Breakfast was a silent affair, but the lack of conversation was oddly comfortable. Carmine and Tony were the only ones at the table. The absence of Emilio in the morning when he knew the current capo had been there until at least 2 a.m meant that his replacement wasn't given the same privileges in the Achenzas home. They ate. While Carmine read the newspapers, Anthony thought. Planned. Strategized.

"I'm gonna find you the snitch today. And you're gonna call Francesca to tell her you changed your mind about handing her the Munoz deal." He said in a matter-of-fact manner that had Carmine raise an eyebrow and look up from the journal.

"Again with the orders, Antonio?" Carmine asked with a hint of irony.

"I'm just laying out the plans for the day. Always have, remember?" Tony quipped with the famous DiNozzo smile.

"Ah yes. Each morning after your coffee," Carmine agreed.

Carmine pretended to let the demanding part of Tony's tone drop, but both men knew that it was walking on thin ice to keep blurting out orders like that and expect Carmine Achenza, of the Baltimore Famiglia, to just take it all in stride and gently obey.

"Tell me, Anthonio, did you sleep well?"

Tony may be perfectly well groomed thanks to the toiletries he had found in his bathroom that morning, but he knew he probably had dark shadows under his eyes that showed how far off "well" was from describing his sleep.

"What can I say, I missed my own bed." He joked, shrugging.

"Of course," Carmine sipped his coffee twice. "You came here of your own will, haven't you?"

" As far as I know, yes. " He didn't have to ask what Father's point was, he knew he'd be told soon enough.

"I hope you didn't have trouble sleeping because you felt uneasy being here."

The man's eyes were looking straight into his, not even trying to be subtle in the observation of Tony's reaction to this seemingly light accusation.

"You're asking me if I trust your people enough to relax in your home?" Tony rephrased with a small smile, tilting his head a bit to observe back the man with whom he was sharing the most intimate meal of the day. Carmine's shrug was a clear imitation of Tony's earlier one.

"What can I say, _Fidarsi è bene, non fidarsi è meglio_."

_To trust is good, not to trust is better. _And there it was, that pleased look on the Padrino's face again. Something on Tony's neck itched, but he stopped himself from scratching. If he did, he may want to scrape all his skin off just to make the bittersweet sense of achievement he'd felt at the look of pride he had just received go. away. It was so wrong it felt right. When he closed his eyes, he could've sworn another pair of piercing eyes was staring directly into his soul. Blue, icy, familiar eyes.

_Get your head in the game_, he thought, wanting to shake his head to help him focus back. "_It's a headslap you need, DiNozzo_" an uninvited, gruff voice said in his mind. But this time, the recurrent thought didn't make him smile or laugh in his self-deprecating manner. This time he just sneered.

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He left the Blue room quietly and immediately shut himself in his study. He had the folders he'd had the night before and he found a list of names that hadn't been. It was Joseph's handwriting, and Tony didn't even wonder when the old man had been asked to gather this information for him. There was also a notebook waiting for him, already turned on and with an internet connection. This would be easy.

He didn't feel the time pass. Didn't realize he'd missed lunch. Didn't realize someone had just entered the room.

"What are you _doing_ here?"

And his spidey senses certainly needed practice.

He turned to face the woman whose pleading voice had interrupted his thoughts. Francesca was leaning against the door she'd just closed behind her, and though she had barely whispered her question, Tony had sensed the anguish in her words. And in her every facial expression.

"You can't be back. Tonio, you can't... be... back." She added, her despair growing with her words, she walked to him and stopped by his side before kneeling down next to his chair and taking his hands in hers.

"Cesca, what are you doing," Tony hissed. "get u-"

"No, Tonio, please, I'm begging you. If you're doing this for me. If you're here for me… just don't."

Her fingers were clenching his and she was still whispering, but she seemed positively distressed. It was so sudden that Tony couldn't comprehend what was happening, and why. He just saw the woman down on her knees, begging him, and it felt _wrong. _Had he unknowingly entered the twilight zone? That would certainly explain a whole lot of things.

"Francesca, get up."

" No, Tonio, you have to understand..."

"I said get up, Francesca." His voice was low but uncompromising. She obeyed. "Whatever is eating at you, stop it. I made you a promise, and I intend on keeping it."

"You aren't his to take. You aren't." She seemed totally impervious to what he was saying. He was not even sure she'd heard him. She was calmer though, but her stillness didn't hide her paleness, and Tony could feel how unsettled she still was.

"No one is taking me. I'm a big boy Cesca," Tony huffed.

"And _I am a big girl. _I know you're here for me. I knew you'd do something stupid when I told you about the consigliere... Ahh.." She closed her eyes and hit her forehead with her palm. "I'm so stupid. I did this. I made you come back," Francesca berated herself.

Tony rose up on his feet and took the hand she still had resting on her forehead with his right one, gently resting the other one on her cheek.

"Open your eyes, Cesca. Look at me." Seconds passed with no movement from either one of them. And then she did open her eyes to find his green ones staring directly back at her. They were warm, full of promises and so unwaveringly strong that she couldn't think of anything to say.

"You didn't _make_ _me_ do anything," Tony gently insisted. "You called me brother once, and now I'm gonna rise up and try to actually deserve the title."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted her with a look.

"I'm going to do this, Francesca DiNocci. You can't stop me. And someday, soon, I'm gonna come to you and tell you that you can leave. And when I do, you're gonna smile, and you're gonna do whatever the hell you _really_ want to do. Do you understand me?"

His calm voice seemed to coax her into a peaceful state of calmness. She nodded, making his hands on her face go up and down with her movement. He finally let his arms fall back aimlessly on his side and smiled, sincerely pleased.

"And what will _you_ do then?"

Tony could taste bitterness on his mouth as he thought of what he'd probably have to do before the day he told her about could ever happen. And of what he'd have to do after that.

"That's _my_ problem to handle, dear."

He kissed her forehead where it was still red from the self-inflicted slap, and turned his back to her a second to gather his things on the desk. He was done there anyway. And he had someone to find.

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At the second his left foot touched the outside pavement, he was handed his two guns, knives and badge. He took his SIG and ankle knife but left the rest on the box. Alceo was there too, and Tony just knew that the man had spent most of his night there waiting for him, before coming back first thing in the morning. Tony walked away a few steps and Alceo naturally fell back behind him, as if 9 years had not happened. He managed to hide his satisfied smirk before telling the two men at the doors to disappear with a flick of his wrist.

"Bring me this man, Alceo." Tony simply said while handing his old _friend_ a piece of paper. "And keep it quiet." He needn't say more.

Alceo took the note, took a look at it and tore it up in the second, letting several pieces of torn paper slowly fall, the wind making them glide aimlessly for a few seconds before finally ending in the dirt. Alceo was gone by the time they touched ground. Tony took the few moments he had to walk around, nodding his head to a few men he knew and others he didn't and going out. He spotted the two FBI cars that hadn't left their position and smiled at the one he suspected of hiding the photographers. Maybe he'd bring them some donuts and coffee later, and maybe a sudoku book to keep them entertained. He'd certainly like it if someone did that for him when he was on a stake out.

Outside, at the exact same spot he'd left them the day before, were Lorenzo-say-your-prayers and the three eager guarding dogs he'd met for the first time. The three youngsters had apparently been briefed, probably by Alceo or Emilio, because when they saw him they looked down and mumbled a pathetic "Hi, capo." Tony wanted to laugh, what kind of soldiers were they to greet him by saying his title in the Family? These kids would probably get someone killed, or worse, arrested. He ignored them and stared instead into the eyes of Lorenzo. The older man had lazily leveled his glare to him. He would have to tread carefully if he wanted to give the snitch a chance to escape Lorenzo. He hadn't counted on the man being there that day. He should have realized that Lorenzo would probably lurk in every corner waiting for a chance (and the authorization) to lunge.

Still casually wandering around, he found Febo Zorzetti watching him from the other side of the road, nervously playing with the keys in his hands. Tony smiled at what would probably always be "the boy" in his mind, and crossed the street in a few long strides to go to him.

"Febo, what are you doing here?" Tony greeted him in a happy tone.

"Nothing Antonio, just came with Alceo this morning. You never know..."

"I see, you're his second?"

The kid (he was only five years younger than Tony, but still) shrugged as if he felt awkward saying it. Tony could almost see him blush. It was kinda funny seeing a grown man lose his composure just because he was talking to him. He had forgotten the little hero-worship Zorzetti'd had toward him. Apparently it wasn't completely gone. Maybe the fact that Tony was dead, and then alive, and then an Agent, and then coming back, and then still higher in the hierarchy than Emilio, had just amplified the myth surrounding him. Tony was okay with it. It didn't feel so bad being the one person that intrigued everyone. He knew nobody would ever ask him what exactly what his deal there, they feared him and his position way too much, and the aura of mystery around him only added to the fearing part. It was always good in his-in _this_ business.

"Something like that," Febo ended up saying. Antonio nodded seriously.

"You take care of him, kid. I don't want to hear anything happened to him, hear?"

"Ye.. Yes sir."

Tony hid his smile. He had the grown-man stuttering when he occupied one of the most important positions for a soldier. Tony knew he had to try to charm his way into being casual with Zorzetti. Being _too_ afraid or overawed led nowhere.

They talked some more before Tony felt his phone vibrate in his hands. He recognized Alceo's number and smiled. Throwing his car keys up in the air before catching them back, he winked at Febo and gave him a big smile as he said, "See ya - business to attend." He was walking away when he thought that maybe he could actually have use of the younger man.

"Hey Zorzetti, with me."

Febo seemed uneasy when Tony motioned to his car parked a few ones away. He followed him in anyway. As Anthony started the ignition and pulled out, he could see the black sedan come to life too. He smirked. The Feebees probably hoped for some action. They'd be disappointed. The drive took exactly 6 minutes before Tony pulled over just in front of a little restaurant. The name "Happy Days" stood there in already lit up light pink neon.

"Just stay here, Febo, and look cool." Tony said with a laugh before he entered the place. His eyes went to the third booth to the right as bees went to honey. And here they were: Alceo and a very nervous looking man. He didn't take the time to look around, observe the diner. He knew it was so like Arnold's Restaurant that the only thing missing from it was the Fonze walking around with his thumbs up (Aayy). This diner made the best burgers in Baltimore. It had become his own personal office when he wanted to deal with things his own way. Alceo hadn't forgotten.

"Freddy! My man !" He exclaimed with his arms wide open when he arrived near the booth.

Never before had he seen Freddy Rossi, but he had read his name more than once, and he knew he'd been a naughty, naughty boy.

"Do... Do I know you?" Freddy asked nervously.

Alceo chuckled as he slid out of the booth to let Tony take his place.

"Alceo, I'm starving, please bring me something." Tony said without sparing a glance at Rossi.

"What would you like, Antonio? The usual?"

"Well yeah.. Oh wait, they have anything new? Maybe I need the menu."

"Naah, they haven't added anything in 20 years"

"Okay, the usual then. Don't forget the Giant Milk-shake!"

They had been such a nice oiled machine in the past, Tony hadn't even needed to brief his old second.

Alceo nodded and left, Tony turned again to face the now perplexed Freddy and leaned in as if he was about to confide in him:

"He _always_ forgets the milkshake," Tony said confidentially.

"Who are you?" Freddy repeated, his head going from Alceo at the bar to him.

"Relax Freddy, can't a friend invite a friend to a good diner to share an hamburger in the middle of the afternoon?"

"I don't _know _you."

"Well yeah, I can see how that would be a problem." Tony said with an easy smile. "My name is Anthony DiNozzo Jr., and I know _exactly_ who _you_ are." The smile wasn't so warm anymore.

"How the..."

Alceo was coming back with an order slip in hand. He was about to sit back when he _tisk_ed and rolled his eyes, "I forgot to tell her about the milkshake."

"You forgot to tell her about the milkshake!" Tony agreed, smiling.

And Alceo left again. Tony wanted to get up and applaud.

"You want to know how I know you. Well, the same way I knew that Alceo here would forget the milkshake. I know people. That's just my thing." Tony was doing that thing he had mastered over the years. Going from friendly to dangerously serious in one sentence. Hot and cold. Besties and worst enemies.

"What do you want?"

"Depends. Who are you working for?"

Freddy eyes shot up and then to Alceo who had seated himself at the bar, apparently not intending to come back just yet. _Yes pal, it's just the two of us right now._

"I do.. I don't understand. I'm working with my family..."

Tony understood that Alceo had probably not told Rossi who he was.

"Let's do it again. Hi, my name is Anthony DiNozzo Jr. and I'm currently working with Mr. Achenza, how about you?"

"Oh.. Oh yes, me too. I mean, my name's Freddy Rossi, and I work for him to. I mean, for Achenza. Mr. Achenza. Father."

Oh poor man. Tony wanted to add a "_please don't wet your pants right now, I like this place, I don't want them to throw me out for good._" He also noted that the man had apparently not noticed the difference between what Tony had said and what he'd replied. Rossi had instinctively said that he worked _for_ Achenza. But it had taken him three tries to get the respectful _Father_ right. This kind of info just stored itself in Tony's mind nearly involuntarily. However, Tony had not realized he himself had thought he wanted to come back here as if it was a normal occurrence for him to be there - in Baltimore.

"Good, good." Tony said, and a waitress came bearing his food before he could add anything. He chatted with the young woman charmingly, and was pleased to see from the corner of his eye that Rossi was relaxing a bit. Hot.

The waitress ended up leaving after a few not-so-subtle suggestive glances and little comments. Tony made no promises, apart from his smile. She seemed to think it was a good enough sign.

DiNozzo didn't resume his talking for a while. The truly appealing giant hamburger had his attention for the next five full minutes while Rossi was fidgeting at first, and then apparently growing confident enough to start being annoyed. When Rossi started tapping the table with the tip of his fingers in an exasperated gesture, Tony smiled and put his burger back on his plate, stuffed his mouth with a few french fries and took a napkin to clean his now greasy hands. Reaching out for his milkshake, he took his time sipping a few times before he finally leaned back with a content sigh and looked up to find the agitated eyes staring at him.

"Now Freddy. Who are you working for?"

"What the hell? I just told you, I'm working for Carmine Achenza."

Tony had to bite back the "_It's Father to you, dumbass_" that'd been threatening to slip off his lips. He snorted instead.

"You know how in movies the cool interrogators always say '_We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, your choice_'?" The fidgeting resumed. "Well I'm not sure we have quite the time to give you that choice. And I'm in no mood for the Tetris trick right now." Tony ignored the confused look he received. "Actually, right now, I _am_ the easy way. Do you know what the hard way would be?"

Rossi shook his head no.

"The hard way would be Lorenzo's way. Do you know Lorenzo, Freddy?"

Rossi nodded his head yes and gulped. This was almost too easy.

"Okay. Then you know how his way always ends. You gotta hand it to him though, he's very imaginative, uses tools and plenty of cool stuff. But you know, in the end, All roads lead to Rome." Tony casually said, shrugging and eying his burger again, "They really have the best damn burgers in town. Hey, how rude of me, wanna take a bite or something? I can ask Alceo to order you something... No? You're sure? Okay then."

Tony stayed silent then, plainly staring right at Rossi. The man was already as white as the delicious milkshake Tony wanted to drink. This was getting boring and Anthony still had a lot to do that day. He darkened his stare and reached out to take his keys, feigning his departure.

"Wait!" Freddy exclaimed, and Tony saw Alceo smile and shake his head a few feet away. "What... what is gonna happen to me? You don't seem..."

"As bad as the others? It's the stunning green eyes: make me look cute and cuddly." Tony punctuated his statement by opening his eyes really wide and smiling comically.

Freddy didn't seem to appreciate the humor, his hands were slightly trembling. How the hell did that man think he could last as a snitch at the Achenzas?

"Please, I have a wife and a kid. I did this for them."

"Shut up, you're only pissing me off." Tony said, and their was no sign of Friendly Tony there. He hated excuses. "Now you're gonna tell me who you work for, what you did for them and for how long. If you even try to lie, I will know it, and you will _learn_ who I am. Understood?"

Cold.

His voice was low, dangerous and decidedly dark. Rossi crumbled. He vomited excuses, apologies and random information as if there was no tomorrow. Maybe there really wouldn't be any, for him. Tony learned that Freddy had been a simple chauffeur for the Achenzas for fifteen years, when a man from the Matteras came to him and offered him a buttload of money for a call when he'd have the address and time of the next appointment Freddy would drive Carmine to. That one time thing became a weekly one. Then he'd been asked to try and eavesdrop when he was driving. And then… more and more and more. There was a lot of "_I wanted out but they threatened to tell everything_" and of "_I have a kid_" and "_My wife was sick._"

"Shut up, and listen good. You're gonna take that wife and kid of yours, throw the money in a duffel bag and get the hell out," Tonio ordered.

"Wh-what?"

"You're still here in 24 hours and Father's soldiers will come banging at your door. And if it's not them, it will be Mattera's guys. And believe me, if you're afraid of Lorenzo when Father still keeps him on a leash, you do _not_ want to deal with the Mattera clan."

"But where...?"

"Hey, do you want me to give you the address of a good Holliday Inn or something?" Sensing the despair emanating from the man sitting in front of him, Tony sighed. "Don't just move to the next city, don't even stay in the next state. Leave for good and never come back." After a few seconds of silence that Rossi didn't dare break, Tony remembered the Feebees waiting outside the diner and swore." One more thing. What do you say if you're arrested? "

"Nothing!" Was Freddy's quick reply.

"Face it Freddy, you're not good at being interrogated, so what's your story if they catch you?"

"I know nothing, I didn't see anything, I wasn't there. And if I was there, I was asleep."

Tony nearly laughed out loud. He remembered when he'd said that exact same phrase to Alceo years ago. He'd asked - only half-kidding - the younger man to just memorize it and never say anything else to any question he may be asked. Obviously, Alceo had thought it would be a good thing to spread the word. Observing the nervous wreck facing him, Tony shook his head. This wouldn't be useful to that one.

"If the man asking you questions has a bad Marine hair-cut and smells too-strong coffee, just run for you life."

Anthony made a movement with his head signaling to the man to get the hell out, and Freddy nodded and got up in a hurry. However, he stopped at Tony's level and started shifting from one foot to the other, his now red hands still fidgeting.

"I... Thank you..."

"If you're thanking me, it's that you didn't get shit from what I just told you."

Freddy flew.

.

.

Tony checked his watch as he entered the mansion-like Achenza house. He didn't lose a second wandering around. Walking directly to Carmine's study, he planned the next few days ahead. He had to think about Francesca. He had to find her a way out, and his first plan seemed more and more flawed as he thought about it. _Well, when Plan A sinks the ship, there's always Plan B: Mitch Buchannon running in slow-mo with a life buoy to save the day._

"I found him. You'll have his name first thing Monday morning." Tony said without preamble. Carmine was sitting on the chair Tony had taken the day before and was reading a thick book with chinese calligraphy on the cover.

"And I guess by then he will be far away."

"Only if he knows what's best for him."

"Don't you think I should talk to him?"

"Did it for you. He worked for the Matteras. You'll have all the info with his name... In time."

Carmine held his stare for long seconds, seemingly gauging him, before letting a half-smile settle on his face.

"How did you find him?"

This time, Tony was the one smiling wickedly, and with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes he shrugged slightly, as if he was about to say something obvious:

"Some good ol' cop work, of course."

.

.

.

It was 7.30p.m when he finally arrived at his place. His back was killing him and he could've killed for a masseuse appearing right there. He was fumbling for his keys when the door opened from the inside. He jumped back and reached for his gun.

"Woa, relax Ton', it's just good ol' Abby here."

"W.. what ?"

That's when he heard the clinging sounds of plates being moved somewhere in _his_ kitchen. He just took the time to kiss Abby's forehead before going past her to find who else was there and apparently playing with his things.

It was Ziva. And she was juggling with two casseroles and a bowl with a spoon in her mouth.

_What... the … hell ?_

"So I _have_ entered the Twilight Zone!" Tony exclaimed when he could finally close his mouth.

"Oh I loooved this show!" Abby cried, coming from behind to hug him by surprise.

By then, Ziva had managed to put the two casseroles on the counter of the kitchen and walked to the living room to place the bowl on the large dining table in the corner. The table was actually laid for five, and Tony was pretty sure he was about to wake up and realize everything was a dream.

"_I'm gonna go to my room now and cry_" a man's voice said from behind. Tony turned only to find James Garner on his large plasma TV.

"And you're watching _Space Cowboys_ on my TV?" DiNozzo all but shrieked. "I.. I think I'm having a heart attack," he gasped as he grasped his chest over his heart and fake-fell on the couch.

.

Ten minutes later, Tony had both Ziva and Abby sitting on the couch while he took the chair facing them.

"So, who wants to tell me when, why and how you broke into my apartment... and made dinner?"

Abby was bitting her lips and fidgeting, and a flash of Freddy Rossi's pudgy fingers nervously twitching had Tony look away at Ziva's calm composure.

"FBI told Gibbs you went to Achenza. Gibbs called Abby to identify every man on the surveillance pictures they had taken. Abby told McGee and me. Tim was actually here not an hour ago, but Gibbs called him for an unknown reason." Ziva explained patiently.

"Probably to hack into the FBI database and find more info about the men in the pictures," Abby said. She added, "Gibbs is going crazy Tony."

Tony took the time to process the information, when he realized that it didn't quite answer any of the questions he'd asked. His confusion was apparently obvious, as the girls went on with the explanations.

"Abby was getting distressed, and the ambiance around Gibbs was starting to get heavy. He forbade us to call you, but we thought that you'd probably come back here at some point so..."

"So we came here for moral support, Tony!" Abby interrupted, babbling excitedly as usual. "Ziva picked the lock in like… 5 seconds tops! I already bought you a new alarm system on the internet, it'll be there in 'five to seven working days,' you'll thank me later. And I missed you like crazy. You should call Gibbs by the way. Poor Timmy is probably working like a slave right now because of you. Bad Tony."

"Ah, and we came here at around 1600 hours," Ziva added, remembering the first question.

"But we got bored so we started looking for a good movie to watch. And we wanted snacks but your cupboards were all empty, so we had to go to the grocery store. We bought you lots of good stuff, you'll see. Then Ducky called; I think he was worried about me because he'd talked to Bossman and knew everything. I ended up telling him to come over when he insisted I went to his place on my way home. Then Tim called to let us know he'd be done before dinner. And then I thought: hey, let's all eat together. You know, that way we can worry as a team. Can I hug you again now? Or do you have more questions?"

Tony obliged, opening his arms to her. She jumped on him, making him fall back on the chair,but his eyes found Ziva's, and their intensity made it hard to look away. They spoke curiosity, worry and support. Tony wasn't sure he deserved any of it. He managed to break the stare.

"Let me call him, Abbs, let's give Probalicious a break."

Abby gave him a happy nod as she drew back. He took his phone with him and went to his kitchen, curiously poking his nose around, discovering the many things that weren't there the day before. Speed dial N°1. Gibbs. He answered at the first ring.

"Heya boss, how's your weekend been so far?"

Okay, so maybe he was pushing it. But he wouldn't be Anthony DiNozzo Jr. if he didn't. There was a few second's silence before the gruff voice on the other end of the line answered.

_"Not that good. I have an Agent here who can't find anything good on the bad guys I'm chasing._"

Tony smiled, and something eased in his chest. He heard his probie grumble something behind Gibbs and his smile widened.

"Don't be too hard on McGoogle, boss, I think his date didn't go that well the other night. Starts eating at his brain."

The lead agent snorted.

"_Wanna tell me about _your_ weekend, DiNozzo? Heard some pretty interesting stuff_."

"What? Who dared kiss and tell?"

"_Fornell probably didn't like the kissing part. Or maybe it's just Sacks that didn't appreciate the muffins and milkshakes you sent him._"

"It'll teach me to try and play nice with the Feebees again."

There was a silence then, Gibbs probably waiting for his Senior Field Agent to add something, anything (like a reason why the hell he was at the Achenzas' to begin with) and Tony just thinking about his next move.

"Hey boss, I'm apparently having a big dinner at my place tonight. Bring Probie with you, we eat at 2030 hours sharp."

Gibbs snorted again, Tony didn't expect any kind of longer answer, he hung up. Texting the Autopsy Gremlin on his way back in the living room, he pushed _send_ and slipped his phone back on his pocket.

"So ladies, what do you say we get this party started?" He said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Two pillows were thrown at him at the same time, he laughed.

It felt good.

.

.

.

**Next chapter** : dinner with the team (mhm, tension and fun), and Tony's two worlds collide.

.

Let me know what you think, I love to hear what your favorite ( or least favorite, of course ) parts were and what you thought:)


	7. Chapter 7

Hello everyone ! Here's chapter 7, hope you like it :)

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><p>.<p>

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"Ah, Duckman,welcome _a la casa DiNozzo!_" Tony greeted when he opened the door to find their beloved ME just taking his hat off. The older man raised his head, surprised.

"Anthony? What a delightful turn of events!"

"Well Ducky, you did realize that you were coming to my place for dinner, didn't you?" The Senior Field Agent teased as he let his friend in and into the living room in which Abby and Ziva were casually talking.

"Indeed, my young friend"The doctor raised the bottle of wine he had brought with him."but I had prepared myself for a much more … anxious person to welcome me." He looked at where Abby was laughing carelessly, "I have to say, I am quite happy to find you instead. You had a lot of you friends worry today."

Tony smiled and shrugged, not letting anything he could say be held against him by the too-shrewd doctor. Ducky understood and let it drop, but Tony had no doubt the doctor would find a way to peak at his deepest secrets before the end of the evening. He always did. Tony took the bottle from the ME and motioned that he'd go put it in the kitchen. He hadn't made two steps when he heard the doctor's next exclamation :

"Abigail, see, I told you Anthony wouldn't be gone long. This is his _home_ after all."

Tony shook his head. You had to give it to the man, he was good. The words were not even directed at him but they'd stuck anyway. He took his time in the kitchen, taking out more plates and everything else his several guests would need. The word _home_ was still echoing in his mind when the doorbell rang again. Tony frowned.

.

"Well damn, Probie, you look like hell."

"Hello to you you, Tony. And thank you very much. You look lovely yourself." McGee bit back and walked past Gibbs and Tony to let himself in. He was about to join the others when he stopped on his tracks, sighed, and came back, clapping Tony on the shoulder. "Next time, just say yes when I ask you to go to a bar." he added wearily. Tony chuckled and Tim finally left the two other men alone.

"What did you do to him, Boss, he looks like he pulled an all-nighter" Tony said as he turned his attention back to the man still waiting on his doormat.

Tony leant casually on the opened door as he observed his boss staring unblinkingly at him. If McGee had looked like he had not slept in two days, Gibbs looked ten times worse. Like '_I have found out Ari was alive_' worse. And that meant bad news. Tony didn't like that.

"He didn't. Called him in the afternoon," the team leader said.

"Hey, maybe he had another date we didn't know about!" Tony said in his fake cheerful voice. Their conversation may've seemed casual, but their eyes were hard as rock.

"Wanna tell me about _your_ date, DiNozzo?"

"Well, I guess you know I spent the night," Tony said wiggling his eyebrow suggestively though he noticed how the icy blue eyes of his boss immediately darkened.

"Care to tell me why?"

The murderous glare Gibbs sent him interrupted Tony in whatever sexual innuendo he was about to launch to keep up the "romantic date" metaphor.

"Aren't you even gonna get in, boss? I'm not used to you using the bell to begin with, this is getting creepy," the lead agent rolled his eyes.

"You think you can keep avoiding every direct question I ask you, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked as he finally moved from his spot to enter the apartment. Tony let his boss pass him before closing the door. _Well, I've been doing it for 9 years, Boss_, he answered in his mind.

_Whack. _

Tony yelped (over-dramatically) as he massaged the back of his head. He turned to his boss, indignant.

"What was _that_ for?" he asked, pouting.

"Teach you not to even _think_ crap."

"Yay ! The headslaps are back !" They both heard Abby exclaim from the next room. Gibbs smiled as he walked to her voice and let Tony behind him.

.

.

Autopsy Grimlin Jimmy Palmer was there 10 minutes later, and at exactly 2030 hours, they were all gathered around the dining table, chatting and laughing after Tony let them know they could dig in. The dinner was … effervescent, to say the least. Everybody talked, shared anecdotes, complimented Ziva on the delicious meal she had cooked for them and generally ignored the gigantic elephant sitting on the couch in the room with them. Even when Tony's phone vibrated on the table, making his and Palmer's plates tremble for long seconds before he chose to ignore the incoming call. There had been a long silence then, everyone eyeing either Tony or Gibbs's reactions. The latter had stared at the phone so intensely that Palmer had moved his chair away in fear of the thing exploding by magic. It was Tony that had diffused the tension with a poor joke that had Ziva snort in a very unladylike manner. Making McGee tease her, and Ducky start renting about how snorting was not considered only a man privilege in some country or another, lost somewhere in the world. And they had resumed the easy banter without so much as a relieved sigh at the dodged crisis.

They took their time, letting the food grow cold before any of them thought about dessert. Abby informed them that the girls had thought about everything - they always did - and was about to get up to go bring the surprise when Tony forbade her to move.

"You've done too much already, let me at least pretend I'm the alpha male of my house," he laughed.

"Let me help you, Tony," Jimmy offered, taking with him a few dishes to bring to the kitchen. They had to go back and forth a few times to clean the table. In the kitchen, while Tony was trying to find what in earth was Abby's surprise dessert, Jimmy stilled. Tony didn't stop looking around as he talked.

"What's on your mind, Blacklungs ?"

"Nothing special.."

"Come on, even you realize how _not true_ that sounded."

"Seriously Tony, it's nothing."

This time, Tony stopped and turned to face the younger man with a frown on his face.

"Hey Jimmy, don't forget how this" he made little circling movements between them both "works. You're there when I need you, don't give me that crap whenI want to help too. It's uncool."

Jimmy smiled a bit shyly and let his eyes find Tony's as if he was trying to understand something just by looking into them.

"After you left the garage the other day, I got to talk with Abby."

"Okay, so you know all about my shameful past?" Tony teased as he started rummaging around ( in his own damn cupboards ! ) again.

"No, Tony, there's nothing shameful about what she told me! On the opposite, I think what you did was so -"

"Relax Jimmy, just kidding."

"I know you _think_ you were kidding. And let me finish. I was saying that I think what you did was _brave_. And I think I get what you're trying to do."

Tony stopped again, cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

"Really?" He said slowly as he fixed his stare on the younger man.

"Well, probably not _really_." Palmer flushed. "I mean, I have a rough idea.." Tony smirked and Jimmy rolled his eyes when he realized he'd been played again. "Look Tony. I'm starting to know you. I trust you. Whatever happened yesterday, or today, I don't care what the others may think or even what _you_ think. I know you're doing the right thing."

And he turned on his heels, grabbed the green box that had been on the counter behind him the whole time, and walked away.

Tony's jaw nearly hit the floor. Good Lord, the Autopsy Grimlin had just left him speechless and stormed out in the same dash.

"What took you so long !" Tony heard Abby ask Jimmy.

"Tony couldn't find it," Jimmy mocked unabashedly.

"How could he not, the box is so green I think there's something radiating from the inside !" McGee replied, laughing.

"Shut up McGee, and hey ! Hands off Jimmy ! Don't open it before Tony's here !"

"Ah yes about that, where did you leave our dear host, Mr. Palmer?"

.

Tony was taking a few seconds alone to get his head back in the game when he heard the unmistakable sound of a phone buzzing on a wooden table. He winced. Damn it, this was _not _the time. He got back in the room to find six pair of eyes staring at him while he got back to his seat, sighed loudly, and took his time taking the phone, looking who the caller was, and ignoring the call again. This time, the strident ringtone of Gibbs's cellphone didn't leave him the time to find a lame deflecting comment. The timing was either pure coincidence or - Tony felt the vibrations resume in his hands before he could even finish his wishful thinking.

For a moment, Gibbs and Tony stood there, facing each other with their ringing phones in their hands, staring into each other's eyes. Gibbs didn't break the eye contact as he answered.

"Gibbs," he answered the phone in a shockingly soft manner.

This time Tony didn't push ignore. He flipped the phone open and brought it to his ear. He wasn't expecting the voice that talked to him.

"_Tonio, finally. Alceo has been trying to reach you._" It was Cesca. What the hell was she doing with Alceo's phone? Those two were not close at all. Not that he remembered anyway. As he saw Gibbs's eyes darken at whatever he was being told, Tony pushed his own reflexions away to focus on the call."_Who is Freddy Rossi Tonio? Alceo didn't want to tell me._" This time it was Tony's stance that stiffened.

"Where did you hear this name?"

Cesca knew better than to make him wait for an answer when he took his serious tone."_I was getting to my car when I heard Lorenzo say your name. I think he said someone had followed you and then he mentioned the name Freddy Rossi_."

"Who was he talking to?" Tony asked, and he blocked away the"what"and"when"s that Gibbs was asking.

He had to focus on Cesca's words. Even if right now, Gibbs's look edged between the 'Grab your gear' look he had every time he received a call at the beginning of a case, and the ' You're in big trouble dumbass ' look he gave the perps he was cuffing after he'd had to chase them down (and was consequently puffed and pissed).

"_I don't know, he was on the phone. When I couldn't reach you I went to Alceo Peasci, I know he's your second here. I told him and he told me he'd deal with Lorenzo himself._"

"What do you mean, ' Deal with him ' ?" Tony asked, his voice growing a cold as his blood had just now. He hadn't realized he'd switched to talking Italian. It attracted more surprised glances around him, and he finally excused himself to walk away a bit, sliding open the door to his study before closing it behind him.

"_I don't know Tonio, I'm sorry._"

Anthony thanked her for the call and didn't move for a few seconds before he began pacing, his mind going 60 miles an hour. He couldn't even try to reach Alceo, knowing that he'd left his phone with Francesca. And he had all his friends - the NCIS MCRTeam - waiting in his living room. Zorzetti ! He had to talk to Febo Zorzetti. He began rummaging around in the drawers of the wooden desk in the corner to find the number of the young Febo when his phone started buzzing again. As it turned out, he didn't need to look for Zorzetti's number for too long.

"Antonio," he answered mechanically. His guts told him this would be about Alceo and Lorenzo. He was right.

"_Antonio it's Febo. I'm calling from Alceo_."

"Tell me everything."

"_Things are messy. Alceo thinks Lorenzo was about to go after that Freddy Rocci guy earlier, so he sent him to a fake mission to stall,_" Tony merely contained his relieved sigh. Alceo hadn't gone after Lorenzo directly. This would have meant a gory crime scene to process for someone at the Baltimore PD. He closed his eyes and passed a hand through his hair, not interrupting the kid in his report. "_Then Alceo and I went to Rocci's house to check they'd left, but his wife and kid are still there. Alceo's with them right now. They told us Rocci told them to pack their things and be ready for him, but he never came home_."

"And where is he?"

"_We don't know_"

And then it all clicked in Tony's head. Gibbs's call minutes earlier. The "Grab your gear" face.

"Listen to me, Febo," he had switched to Italian again. Maybe unconsciously hoping his team wouldn't understand him - though he knew Ziva was fluent in Italian and Abby and Ducky had notions. Maybe unconsciously trying to detach what seemed to be two personas currently battling in his mind. Why did this have to happen when he had his whole team at home? Such things _never_ happened, and the only time it did, his two lives came crashing together? Deep inside him, he knew there was no « two different lives ». There was only one Tony. And right now, he was in charge."You're gonna do exactly what I tell you. First thing, you're gonna take the woman and the kid, put them in a car with a man you trust, and tell your man to drive them away. Then.."

.

.

He didn't take as much time as he thought in the study alone before he joined his comrades back.

"Excuse this little incident. I have been taught better and I can't let this stain the education so many boarding schools teachers tried to cram into my head," Tony said with a charming smile as he entered the room back, arms open and bowing once to convey his apologies. Gibbs had sat back at his place, but his eyes didn't go to his Senior agent when he appeared. The others were awkwardly eager to welcome him back, as they'd had to count on Ducky's ramblings to avoid heavy silence.

"Don't worry Anthony. You have been nothing but a delightful host to our little impromptu party. But is everything alright on your side?"

"Yes Tony, is everything alright?"Abby repeated.

Tony turned his attention to her only to find she had paled and was now looking at him with her big doe eyes hoping for answers, explanations, and probably a whole words diarrhea that he was not ready to give. Not now, and probably not ever. And as he gave a cursory glance around before sitting back, he felt his heart constrict. He didn't like leaving them in the dark. He had sincerely thought that his Baltimore undercover operation had been behind him. If he had still thought about it sometimes, he could feel the ends of his burning wounds stitching and sewing. But somehow his past had managed to hook him by the navel and pull him back. Or maybe it had grappled something a bit higher in his chest, because he could feel something itching each time his heart beat.

"Why yes, Abbs, of course it is. I'm here surrounded by all my dearest friends, and there's a magical box containing a surprise dessert on my dining table, why wouldn't it be?"

His smile was reassuring but she kept chewing on her lower lips as if she was trying not to unleash the onslaught of questions probably on her mind.

"Not friends, Tony. Family. We're family, right?" She looked around to see the others nod and Ziva reached out for her hand to try and calm her friend, Tony gave his partner a grateful nod when their eyes caught. Noticing how silent McGee was, Tony took a look at him only to find the younger agent seemingly deep in thoughts, frowning while staring at nothing. He had his "stuck in solving a geek problem" face, and that couldn't be a good sign.

"Let's unveil the secret dessert now, shall we?" Palmer, surprisingly to everyone except Tony and maybe Ducky, was the first to bounce back and diffuse the tension. Tony sure hoped no spark would be struck tonight, because it would probably start a fire that the Senior Field Agent wasn't sure he could handle.

"Yes, Tony, look what's inside the box. I chose it especially for you." Ziva said in a teasing voice that seemed out-of-place and yet comforting. The slightly raised eyebrow and the wink she added just for his eyes to see had his thoughts change directions in a heartbeat. _No she didn't._

Not breaking eye-contact with the smiling woman, Tony reached for the green box and slowly opened it. He couldn't help but chuckle. _Yes she did_. The warm and low sound that was his laugh had every mind called back to the present, and McGee and Abby focused back on what was happening. Of course, Gibbs stayed as silent as always.

"Why does a Cherry Clafoutis makes you laugh, Tony?" McGee's voice came interrupting Tony's trip down memory lane.

"I believe this is a very popular French Dessert. Maybe there is an anecdote tied to that trip in Paris they took a few years ago, am I right, Ziva?"

"Oh, the time Ziva had Tony sleep on the couch?" McGee snickered.

"What? No you got it wrong, Ziva told me she was the one who slept on the couch." Abby said, coming back from her trance as the discrepancies jumped to her scientific mind.

"Nope, Tony whined about it for a week, I'm pretty sure I'm the one having it right this time Abby."

Abby was about to protest when she heard Ducky's quiet laugh. He seemed very amused by the situation, and was slowly shaking his head.

"This dinner just took a most surprising turn, don't you agree Anthony?"

Tony just smiled as his eyes were still firmly connected to Ziva's. Her soft amused smile was still there despite the others now watching her.

"What? -" McGee said, apparently just now realizing what Ducky was hinting at. His mouth opened and closed a few times with nothing going out before he could finally say: "No way !"

That had Tony laugh again and reach for the knife to cut the cake, still not talking.

"But.. isn't there a rule against this?"Jimmy ended up saying, winning a headslap from Tony. The young doctor jumped back a bit, surprised, before looking up at his friend.

"We took turn on the bed." Tony's voice was firm as he told his alibi. Ziva laughed, and when even Gibbs turned to her with raised eyebrows, she raised her hands in the air and shrugged.

"He's telling the truth. I was just remembering about the Cherry Clafoutis. The story is hilarious."

And the story she made up to avoid telling the truth about what had happened in that one-bed room _was_ indeed hilarious. Tony laughed at the right times and added his own comments to share the ridicule with his partner, all the while amazed at the gift Ziva had for improvising stories that made him look like a fool.

.

They ate some more, laughed and just pretended they forgot about what had happened a few moments earlier. Because that was what teams did. Next week would probably be full of whispered theories and maybe even straight out questions, but he'd think about that later. Now he was enjoying the blissful state of procrastinated problems.

The team didn't stay late. Abby was half dead on her feet so Tony invited her to stay, which she gladly accepted with a tired hug. The content sigh she let slip when in his arms made his heart clench. Palmer, Ducky and his two partners bid their goodbyes and left with small smiles and looks asking him to be careful. Gibbs didn't even get up. They waited for Abby to go brush her teeth ( she had a toothbrush there ), slip in her Tony-boxers and t-shirt and go in his bedroom not to leave it again before next morning. That's when Gibbs chose to get up.

"Why is the FBI calling me to tell me they have a certain Freddy Rocci in their interrogation room?"

"I have no idea. On what charges did they bring him in?"

"A hunch. They found him with a lot of money and his passport. Couldn't explain where the money came from."

Tony wanted to swear but bite his tongue. They had arrested the man for no valid reason and because of that little idiotic stunt Lorenzo could've had all the time he wanted to find the Rossis' place and have his fun with an innocent child and his mother. Tony checked his watch and tried to guess how far Mrs. and little Rossi could be right now. With the Achenzas, it was rarely ever far enough.

"What does that have to do with you?"

"Well I don't know DiNozzo, they thought that maybe I'd like a shot at interrogating the man _my_ Senior Field Agent met with two damn mafia henchmen." Gibbs said, slapping the table with the flat of his hand. Tony didn't blink.

"That's awfully nice of them, they usually keep what they have for themselves."

"Stop it, DiNozzo." And Gibbs's voice was low again, his eyes found Tony's and they spoke authority. "I don't know what you're doing but you're gonna stop it now. I'm your boss and you're in a _team_."

This was probably as close as Gibbs would ever come to telling him that him and the team were there for him.

"I thought I'd taught you better than that," He added, and even if there was no disappointment in his voice, Tony's soul roared as his whole body tensed, indignant. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Or as Ziva would put it, the hay that broke the llama's legs.

"When, boss? When you went solo on Ari's case? » Tony wasn't sure why that was the first exemple to pop in his mind. But it was certainly not the only one he had in reserve. « Or maybe when you ran to save the Taylor girl? You know, when you made my scarred lungs dive into freezing water because you wouldn't come to your team in the first place? And don't even get me started on the Mexican fiasco" There was bitterness in his voice and he didn't even care. He was slowly advancing on his boss. "How exactly do you think you _taught me_ _better_? You went all Captain Ahab on us so many times these last 9 years that I can't even count them. Well boss, this may come as news to you but you're not the only one with a white whale."

Gibbs didn't budge from his spot as Tony closed on him. His eyes held high, he didn't look the least sorry for what he did. Boss always loved his rule number 6.

"Iknew_ I_ wouldn't lose myself in it."Gibbs replied, strong and confident.

Tony smirked.

"No, boss. You didn't _think_ you would. I _know_ you did."

.

.

Gibbs didn't say anything this time. His eyes had just slightly widened but it was enough for Tony to know that he'd got his point across**. **However, anger was not his style and he knew he was partly at fault in these cases. He should've stopped his boss before it was too late. Before he could go rogue to avenge, protect or chase anyone alone. Would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. He should've gone to his boss's face as only he could. Confront him. Just like Gibbs was doing to him right now. The younger man sighed mentally. He knew what his boss meant. What he wanted. And even if Tony wanted nothing but to fall on his knees, tell everything to his boss and let him deal with it, he knew he couldn't. Because he _had_ been taught well. He knew that having a team and friends didn't mean he had to burden them with _his_ past, even though they probably _thought_ it wouldn't be a burden to them. As an Agent, he was driven, competent and yet easy-going. He knew how to ease the tension in the bullpen to make the team _work_. He knew when to bring Probie's feet back on the ground and when to reassure him without him even realizing it. He knew how to make Ziva feel grounded when she doubted her place with them. He could read them all better than anyone else. He knew just how important undescript Jimmy Palmer was, not only as a doctor but as a real member of their team. He understood every mood swing of Abby's and how to deal with them. He even _knew_ why she'd chosen to be a goth! And it was because of that knowledge that he couldn't tell them anything. That this time, he couldn't go to them and share as he always hoped Gibbs and every other member would share with him. It was because he knew them that he knew without the shadow of a doubt that they couldn't take it. They couldn't _work_ if they discovered that part of him.

"And today," Tony resumed, walking away to find a chair on which to sit, "today, we're barely making it back from everything that's happened to us boss. We lost Kate and I thought we'd never be a team again but I was wrong. Then there was Ziva, and Ari, and the lack of trust we saw in every mission you went in solo. Then LaGrenouille, Jenny, and damn Vance splitting us up."

"And Rivkin" Gibbs added, starting to understand.

"Oh yeah. Losing Ziva to Mossad again. Thinking she was dead for months. That was a good one too." Tony said with a harsh little laugh."Do you want me to keep going boss? Cause that doesn't cover the first half of it."

Gibbs's soft shake of the head ended the enumeration. He sat too, and in this simple movement Tony could read the weariness he felt himself reflected on his boss, so deep it went through his bones and left him feeling exhausted.

"Then why are you doing this alone, Tony. You accuse me of something just to do it yourself?" Gibbs used his soft, barely above whisper voice that meant he was seriously concerned but felt helpless. The voice he'd once used when he'd leant over his Senior Field Agent weakened body to order him not. to. die.

"No, Boss. I'm not keeping secrets 'cause I want to protect you from the bad guys. Maybe I want to protect myself somehow, I don't know, but that's not why I won't tell you anything about who Freddy Rossi is"- there, he said it -"or about what I was doing at the Achenzas'."

"Then why?" Gibbs said, leaning forward as if he wanted to get as close as Tony as he possibly could.

"It would break us. For good."

.

.

Gibbs had leant back then. He'd passed his hand through his hair and Tony'd softly smiled, because _he_ was rubbing on his boss. It was a sweet feeling.

"You don't trust us?"

"Com'on boss, you know better than that. I trust you with my life."

"There's something else here Tony. What aren't you telling me?"

_I'm not sure __**you **__should trust __**me**__, _Tony thought. But he didn't say anything, because he knew Gibbs wouldn't take that shit.

"I'm not backing off on that case, Tony."

"I know. Didn't think you would. Not asking you to either."

Gibbs got up then, and Tony knew it was the end of their conversation. He walked his boss to the door, which he opened for him as the older man grabbed his coat.

"Don't make me watch you get interrogated by the FBI," Gibbs added when he was on the doormat.

Tony shrugged and smiled his best self-deprecating smile, "Aww, com'on boss, you know they love to ask me questions and frame me for fun stuff."

"DiNozzo -" he warned, and Tony's smile widened.

And Gibbs just shook his head again, resigned, before he turned on his heels and left.

"Sweet Dreams to you too, boss"

.

.

.

Tony spent that night fighting in his sleep, kicking the sheets and tossing in bed. He woke up thrice to find himself swearing and damning the rest apparently decided to evade him. The fourth time his eyes shot open, sunbeams were peeking through his curtains and he decided he should just stop trying. That's how he found himself in the shower 10 minutes later, enjoying the hot water raining on his lean body and relaxing his tense muscles as it ran down every inch of his skin. His thoughts were jumping from one thing to the other. Old and recent memories were jumbled together and coming and going through his head. Gibbs's eyes on him last night. Elena's cold fingers on his burning skin. Abby sighing in content in his arms. Cesca accepting to leave in time. HIs father's cold eyes. And why was he thinking of Senior? and why couldn't he sleep in his own bed when he'd slept like a baby the night before, at Carmine's? Ziva's cherry clafoutis came dancing then, and were Elena's fingers actually hot on his cold skin? His head was spinning. Palmer was telling him he believed in him whatever he did, and the theme song of the Addams Family was playing in the back of his mind. Focus. No, even better : stop thinking.

He didn't have the time to try the relaxation methods Abby had tried to teach him last time she had slept over as he heard that very woman shriek. Not squeal in excitement. Shriek. He was out of the water and in a towel in the next second, barely taking the time to open the third drawer of his bathroom unit to take out the small gun he hid there. Better safe than sorry. What greeted him in the living room was unexpected to say the least.

"Abby, for God's sake, put the taser down."

"What? But Tony she has a _gun_"

"Well, excuse me but when someone's attacking me with a taser, I defend myself."

"Elena, put that thing down."

.

.

So.. Dinner at Tony's, hit or miss?

Gibbs&Tony's talk, liked or hated ?

Next chapter : naked Tony, Elena meets Abby, and the team gets back to work (hey, they _are_ the MCRT after all)


	8. Chapter 8

**The original chapter was way too long so I had to divide it in two parts. Part 2 coming soon. **

**I hope you won't think I'm losing focus just because there are so many things going on at once (a case, FBI, McGee, Elena, Gibbs, the Rossi thing..), I'm trying to make it look as real as possible, and life is not linear either after all. **

**Let me know what you think! **

**.**

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

" **Previously, on Honor Thy Father" :**

_"Abby, for God's sake, put the taser down."_

_"What? But Tony she has a gun"_

_"Well, excuse me but when someone's attacking me with a taser, I defend myself."_

_"Elena, put that down."_

_**.**_

_**.**_

Both women seemed hesitant. Tony sighed. Of course Elena had to break into his house the very day Abby was sleeping in. In his boxers. And apparently, ready to use the taser she always had in her bag. But Elena wasn't the kind to shield or run away when attacked. So _of course_ she had to aim her small girly gun at his best friend. In his freaking living room.

"Ladies, it's 8 a.m a Sunday morning, I demand you put your weapons down at least until noon."

His two worlds colliding may very well made him lose his mind. Or if they kept brandishing their guns as they were, some other part of his body.

"Very well," Elena said, putting the gun back under her clothes. Where on earth did she hide it? One second it was so very there in her hands, the next he could've believed he had dreamt it.

Abby didn't seem so ready to back down. She was clutching at the taser as if her life depended on it and even if Tony had put himself between the two women when they were still both wielding their respective guns, she was staring past him at Elena with defiance. The fact that the other woman didn't seem to care that much only made Abby clutch the thing harder.

"She picked the lock. I heard her."

"I wasn't expecting a woman to be there," Elena shrugged, but her eyes were all shiny with amusement, and Tony rolled his. Her eyes then fell down his torso, following the drops of water that were still dripping on his skin "You do realize that you're towel is hanging lower and lower, Tonio?"

Tony barely had the time to look down to find that, indeed, the towel he'd wrapped around his hips was about to fall. He opened his mouth to say that it couldn't fall because it would just make the whole scene too cliché, when pain literally seized every atom of his body, making his body fall, writhing in pain as he was struggling to breath. The whole thing only lasted a few seconds, but when the pain receded he was fighting not to pass out.

"Oh my God Tony, I'm so sorry ! I'm so sorry ! My finger just slipped!" Abby blurted out as she threw herself on her knees beside him. Tony's body naturally recoiled and her eyes immediately watered "I'm so sorry Tony. I'm gonna call Ducky."

"No. Just wait .. a second.." he gasped as he tried to straighten up but realized his body wouldn't budge.

Abby didn't dare move, not even realizing that the 'other woman' had momentarily vanished. As Tony finally began regaining control of his members, he shook his head softly and blinked a few times. He could feel his heart furiously pounding in his chest and knew he probably shouldn't try to move anymore if he wanted to avoid puking on his parquet. As he looked up, he saw Abby, hands nervously clasped under her chin. She was about ready to breakdown but he didn't have the strength to actually walk to her and hug her. That's when his silk robe appeared in front of him. He never actually wore it. Didn't even remember who had given it to him. The fabric caressed his shoulder and he realized he was practically naked. He preferred not to look down to check but took the clothe with a nod of his head.

Elena didn't move back after she gave him what she'd gone looking for. She didn't move to help him either, but her eyes never shifted from him to give him the semblance of privacy Abby's did. It made Tony smirk. And it made him get up. He stumbled back once, but his eyes never wavered from hers as he felt the towel against his calf. Her eyes went down his body and up again, and she raised a shameless questioning eyebrow. Tony didn't have to look down to know why. Well, you couldn't just _suppress_ the effects of an electrocution now, could you? Tony, without being prudish, wasn't the kind to show his private parts when he could avoid it. This time though, he just raised his eyebrows back a the dangerously voluptuous woman looking at him. As he slipped on the robe and closed it on his chest, she rolled his eyes and shrugged. He chuckled.

"Open your eyes Abbs. I'm fine now."

"How could you be? You were all wet and I _electrocuted_ you. Do you know what that means? Do you know what I just did to you? Because _I_ do, and that means that you _cannot_ be fine. I'm gonna call ducky. Or let's just go to the hospital. Oh my god Tony I'm so so so **so **sorry."

"Abby. Calm down now."

It was not an order but Abby immediately quieted. She was looking at him funny, surprised by the soothing and yet assertive tone Tony'd just used. He'd never talked like that before. She was about to protest, but the look he gave her made her shut her opening mouth. _What is happening?_ was the first thing on her mind. Tony's aura was shifting. He was calmer and yet still the same. And she probably would've obeyed anything he said right now.

"Abby, this is Elena. She's a friend of mine and can come and go as she pleases in this house so I'm asking you not to tase her - or anyone for that matter. Elena," he added as he turned to the woman by his side."

Abby kind of blacked out for a moment after she finally raised her eyes at the woman and saw the picture in front of her. Tony was in that dark blue silk robe that was so wrong and yet so right for him and the beautiful dark woman standing just next to him arbored the same smile and knowing expression he always did. He passed his hand through his hair as he always did but it seemed so new. And it was combined with Elena cocking her head to Abby when he finally introduced the two women. She seemed amused when he explained that she was allowed to come and go in his apartment, and Abby wondered if it often happened or not. Maybe that Elena woman hadn't picked the lock. Maybe she just had a key. As realization dawned on her, Abby felt she needed to sit. Tony then turned to the woman to introduce Abby, and in the two sentences exchanged, it seemed so obvious. So painstakingly clear. They looked like they belonged together.

.

"Abby, you look pale are you okay?" Tony asked, approaching.

"What? Of course I am, silly Tony, you're the one who was tased," she began to reassure him half-heartedly but then, remembering what she'd done,"Oh my god, and _**I**_'m the one that did it ! I'm **so** sorry, I just heard her call you Tonio, and I got distracted and.."

His eyes darkened at the second she said _Tonio_, and she wanted to slap herself for it. She decided to shut up before she could worsen the situation, but he was already back to his casually composed and yet usual self. He smiled at her and pulled a chair out for her to sit.

"Give me a moment, I need to talk to Elena alone and then I'm back to you."

"O.. Okay. You're sure you don't need Ducky? I think you need Ducky. I may have done some damage in there and wh-"

"Please, you're lady thingy didn't stand a chance against me Abbs." Tony h and winked at her as he gave his arm to Elena to walk her to his study.

"Tony !" Abby said when he was about to close de sliding door behind him.

"Yes, Abbs?" He said as he tilted his head, surprised by her tone. Elena was already inside.

"Is she in _your_ team or in that Father person's?"

.

Tony couldn't help but smile at that. Even if once again, something in his chest constricted. She immediately figured _he_ was not on Father's team. And after all, how could he be, right? Abby knew so many things and yet was so genuine in both her concern and her belief that he couldn't do wrong that it hurt. Gibbs's Rule number 8 : never assume anything.

"She's.. freelance, Abbs."

.

.

"Your friend is right, Tonio, you should rest." was the first thing Elena said when he finally joined her in the room. She was already making herself comfortable in a large chair next to the desk. He chose not to put a table between them and went to move the next chair to face hers.

"I'll be fine," he quickly dismissed, "Why don't we talk, Elena. That _is_ what you came for, isn't it?"

The elegant woman observed the man facing her a moment before nodding. Tony smiled, she was not the type to insist he was not fine when he said he was. She just accepted the answer and went on. She trusted him to know his body and strength better than she did and to act accordingly. It was a nice change from what he was used to.

"I came to give you the updates."

He raised an eyebrow, signaling he was listening, and she went on. "Lorenzo was furious when he found out the Rossis had moved. He knows Freddy's been arrested, so he can't touch him when he's out." At least Lorenzo was right, it would look too suspicious andLorenzo couldn't afford attracting any attention. Tony didn't need to ask her how she'd heard about all that supposedly secret affair, he knew she was a master at gathering information, it was just her thing. He was much more interested in something else.

"Father?" was his one-word question.

"Heard that Rossi was arrested. He probably understood why. And he's probably not going to bail him out."

"No, he probably isn't. But you haven't come all this way to tell me this."

"I know more."

"Of course you do. You know everything, Elena."

She nodded her head, not trying to deny what they both knew to be the truth. That was refreshing too, Tony thought as he was progressively reminded of all the reasons Elena and him had clicked so quickly when they first met.

"Father is not going to let Santiago Munoz go. He needs this deal. He thinks it's time to expand to that area, and he needs someone to get him in."

"He doesn't care about the area," Tony intervened, "There's nothing interesting for him there. He just doesn't want to let it go to Mattera."

"Probably."

They were both silent for a few moments, Elena letting Tony process what she had told just told him.

"What are you going to do now?" Elena knew the question was useless. As a matter of fact, Tony didn't even acknowledge it.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

She shrugged and caught his eyes. Tony smiled. Just as he'd had no intention of answering her question she had no intension of answering his. It was okay though. He didn't expect anything else.

"Abby asked me which team you played for. Carmine's or mine," Tony added after a while, a small smile playing on his lips as he passed his hand on his chin, feeling the beginning of a beard soon to disappear.

She didn't ask what he'd answered his best friend. She didn't give an answer herself. Instead, she smirked, but with amusement rather than mockery.

"She automatically assumed you weren't on the same one?"

Tony chuckled softly and shrugged, not needing to inform her that he had thought the exact same thing she had.

.

.

Abby hadn't moved and inch when Tony and Elena came back. Elena tilted her head at her but didn't stop, going directly to the door with Tony leading her. Abby didn't fail to notice his hand on the small of her back. She couldn't look away, he was talking to her with that charming smile she had seen on him hundreds of times, but this time it was different. There was history in the way they talked. Their bodies were a bit too close. Their tone a bit too teasing. His laugh way too natural. Then _the woman_ went away, and Abby finally let out a relieved breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Come here Abbs," Tony said with a shake of his head. Abby practically bounced on her feet but before she jumped on him as she usually did to choke him with a loving hug, she stopped herself, feeling a shyness that was new and unusual. She began fidgeting with her hands again and bit her lower lips as if she was hesitating. Tony frowned, surprised.

"Can I hug you now, Tony?"

He smiled reassuringly and nodded, opening his arms to her. He didn't want to let her know that her soft, hesitant voice had just broke his heart. Suddenly, he felt weary and tired.

"Don't ever ask my permission again," he murmured in her hair. She nodded against his shoulder in response.

After long seconds spent unmoving, Abby sighed and drew back.

" I have to go. One of the nuns fell in the stairs last week. She has two casts and can't really do anything so we take turn helping her at her home. "

"What? Which nun is that? Is it Sister Marie again?"

" Sister Lauretta," Abby informed, shaking her head. "You don't know her, she's new in our little group."

" Huh, she's new? That means you went on a Special Newbie Bowling Night and you didn't call me?" Tony said, faking indignation and hurt in a high pitched voice.

Abby left his apartment smiling, and Tony couldn't have asked for more.

.

.

Without taking a second's pause, Tony -left alone in his apartment- took out his phone. His hand was trembling but he didn't take the time to care. If he let the weakness of his body interrupt him right then, he'd probably not be able to do the one thing he needed to before his mind could rest. He found the name he wanted in his phone contact list and clicked on the call button. It rang three times before a unexpected voice answered.

" _Hello?" _A woman voice.

" Hello yourself, could I speak to Seeley Booth?" He politely asked, his free hand finding the back of a chair to help him straighten.

"_Booth is driving right now" _the woman said in a matter-of-fact manner, but Tony could hear the man he wanted to talk to grumbling on the background. There was some fumbling and some more grumbling and bickering that had Tony smiling.

"_Bones, for God's sake I don't care if the car bluetooth thingy is broken. I can drive and talk. I know we're not supposed to, Bones. What do you mean a hazard? Okay, okay, you win, i'm pulling up. Here, you're happy? No, I'm not angry. No, I'm not!" _

Tony kept silent until he heard the man on the other end of the line sigh and a door slam.

"_Tony? Still there?" _Booth finally asked.

"I sure am. Wouldn't want to miss that bickering couple little show you just gave me! Who's the crazy chick, Seeley?" Tony asked, laughing.

"_I guess you wouldn't believe me if I told you that she usually is the most calm, cold-headed woman in the world. Those damn hormones._."

" You're not making much sense to me right now, pal"

" _Oh yeah, you don't know? I'm going to be a father!_" the man said with renewed glee.

" Yeah.. you're already a father Seeley, I've seen the boy, he even threw up on an Armani suit I had just bought. You do remember your son, right?"

"Shut up, I'm gonna be a father _again_. And the crazy chick is the mommy."

Tony congratulated, teased and laughed for a few more minutes before he heard Booth's voice shift to business.

"_What can I do for you, Tony?"_

"You're still working with the Feebees?"

"_You still hate our guts?"_ was the man's answer, and Tony smiled thinking about the sudoku book his still had to buy the agents in the car parked outside his apartment.

"Not my fault every time I meet one of your guys I end up in an interrogation room," Tony said, smiling and shrugging even though he knew he couldn't be seen_. Well now, let's talk business._

.

.

Tony hung up after a few more minutes with Booth and finally allowed himself to close his eyes. His body was rigid and he felt a bit light headed. His heart had maybe slowed down after the little electrocution experience, but it was still beating too fast in his chest. His steps led him to his bedroom and he crashed on his bed, feeling heavy and feverish. He had tried to hold it as long as he could, and the adrenalin and special situation he'd been in had probably helped, but now it all came crashing down. He tried to wriggle himself under the bed sheets, but every movement he made hurt as his muscles were seized with tremors. And as hard as he tried to still his twitching body, he was failing. He felt cold under the sheets even though pearls of sweat were beginning to form on his neck and forehead. _Maybe I should've let her call Ducky._

.

.

.

Monday morning was surprisingly sunny and Tony decided to take it as the sign that the day wouldn't be so bad. Walking in the Navy yard, he realized he felt like it had been weeks since he'd been back here, and so the first thing that popped in his head when the elevator dinged open was exactly what he said:

"Ahh, it's good to be back!"

McGee and Ziva were already at their desks and Tony could see the team leader's bag on the floor next to his chair so he knew Gibbs was probably wandering somewhere around - yes, Tony was certain that Gibbs sometimes took off just to take a walk and pass time rather than because he had important business to attend. Heck, they were probably just having a poker game up there in MTAC every other morning! Everyone knew Gibbs sucked at card games, and that would certainly explain why he was always so pissed when he came back from there. Tony was making a mental note to ask Abby to hack into the MTAC cameras when he heard McGee frosty answer.

"Is it really?"

"Huh, what?", Tony's mind's peregrinations had kind of made him lose focus for a few seconds (what, that Gibbs's thingy issue was a real one!)

"Are you really happy to be back?" McGoogle had the guts to ask more clearly, looking straight at him from his desk with that defiant glare that Tony hadn't seen since the whole Achenza affair.

It made the Senior Agent frown. Tony tried to think back to the dinner of Saturday to try and remember if McGee had left pissed at something, but he came up with nothing. What had got his panties in a bunch?

"What's got your panties in a bunch, McGoogle?" Yes, sometimes Tony had no filter between his mind and mouth. The Senior Agent had slipped behind his own desk to get ready for the day, firing up his computer and quickly going through the mail that was piled up on his desk.

"Nothing, I just thought maybe I should start double-checking everything you tell us just in case," McGee said, shrugging his shoulders and looking back at his screen.

The answer had Tony freeze. Inside. To his partners however, he hadn't missed a beat, not even raising his head.

"Just in case what? I can't possibly understand what you're telling me, McGeek."

"Of course you can't," McGee snorted without looking up from his computer. He started tapping more forcefully on his keyboard as he resumed, "after all you are just plain old Tony the Jock and clown of the class, right?" He tone was growing more resentful as he went on, and this time Tony did stop his actions to look over at his partners. Ziva was quiet, calmly looking at the younger man too. "At least until a damn Mafia lord comes to your desk and we all discover you're -"

"McGee," Ziva hissed to make him stop. Tim's head shot up and Tony realized how tired his Junior agent looked. The circles under his eyes and the unusual paleness of his complexion had Tony do a double take. The Senior agent's frown deepened and he immediately switched onto concerned mode (the one that made him ridiculously nosy) .

"What's wrong, Probie?" Tony asked, he knew being that straightforward would lead him nowhere, but he had to try. A guy could hope after all! If only his partners realized that Tony DiNozzo Jr. never stopped asking questions until he either had the answers he wanted or was dead and buried, well, it would be easier for everyone.

"You don't want to know, Tony, let it go," McGee ended up grumbling with a slight shake of his head before going back to his computer again. That damn thing. Made holding conversations impossible.

" I most certainly do. You obviously want to tell me something, and I'm all ears. Are you gonna man up and say it or are you gonna keep hiding behind your super-advanced-keyboard?"

Tim's head shot up and Tony could practically hear the growl coming from his junior. It was good. He could handle angry McGee. He knew angry McGee. But Probie didn't speak. He obviously wanted to say something, but he looked like he was trying to keep his mouth shut. Tony was about to try and bait him again but he felt the eyes of Ziva on him and when he looked at her she softly shook her head to make him stop. Turning back to McGee, he was hit by the force behind the angry stare directed at him. It was not only anger, actually. It seemed even McGee didn't know exactly what was going on and Tony realized it may not be the time or place to let it all out as he had initially thought was best.

He'd known McGee wouldn't take it lightly. The whole Achenza thing was hard on him. Just when he thought he'd had Tony all figured out, bam, in his face. Tony knew that. He could even guess that his junior felt betrayed in a certain way. Irrationally because of Tony's past undercover assignment, and more or less legitimately because Tony was keeping things from them in the present. Tony wanted to sigh and rub his eyes, he knew he'd have to have a talk with McGee before too long, and just the thought of it was making him weary.

"McGee, are you trying to break a record?" Gibbs's blunt voice interrupted everyone's thoughts (it always did) when he came striding in to find McGee's unblinking stare locked on his Senior Agent. Tim immediately dropped his gaze to his desk and Gibbs looked at Tony with a questioning and very brief frown to ask what was going on. Tony shook his head slightly and Gibbs got it.

"Grab your gear!"

.

.

They had been at it all morning. Couldn't blame Petty Officer Mathews, of course, but Tony was getting tired of taking pictures of the several pieces of his body they found all over the place. The killer, whoever it was, sure was damn messy. Of course, it had taken the team a few minutes to keep down the bile and get on with it, but after three hours in the same room, the combination of smell and gory surprise every time someone came across a new part of the body that had slid under the bed or behind a curtain was starting to make everyone tired, edgy and eager to just. get. out. Even Robot Ziva seemed uneasy. Ducky and Palmer were in their own medical world, talking to themselves (or to the different body parts they were observing), Gibbs had his deep and thoughtful face on, staring at every details of the room as if the answers were hidden behind, and McGee was just getting more and more green every time the flash of the camera he had in his hands got off.

"Boss, I think you should send McGee talk to potential witnesses." Tony said after he walked to Gibbs to start sketching from a new angle. Gibbs's eyes went to Timothy, who looked like he would probably puke next time he had to take a picture of a new found toe.

"Tell him," was the boss's short answer. Tony nodded and went to his Junior, keeping silent the few seconds McGee took to take a new shot and divert his eyes with disgust.

"Probie, go talk to the domestic staff. LEOs've had them waiting outside since 9 a.m and they're getting anxious to go."

It was the truth too. Their crime scene was a room in a huge mansion-like house on the suburbs and the number of people being there because they worked for the family had shocked even a DiNozzo. Their Petty Officer had chosen the Navy because of his conviction. His family was not currently in the country, but the fact that they all still lived together hinted they hadn't cut him off because of his choice. And that was a nice change for the team. Didn't help the Petty Officer though… McGee nodded and took the camera off his neck, but before he even took a step, he stopped in his tracks and jerked his head around, his brows furrowed.

"Why don't you or Ziva do it?"

Tony was taken aback by the suspicion in McGee's tone. What the hell was happening with him? This had to stop quickly.

"I don't know, Probie, why don't you go ask Gibbs how he choses to assign our jobs?" Tony replied, barely hiding his displeasure.

"I saw you go talk to him just now. Do you think I can't take it here like you or Ziva?"

"Is this what this is all about? A pissing contest, McGee?" Tony asked, losing some of his anger to genuine surprise. "I thought we were over that like … years ago!"

Before McGee could answer anything, Gibbs's voice called his attention: "McGee? What are you still doing here? Staff, now!"

McGee didn't look at Tony as he strode down to the NCIS bags that were in a corner to put down the camera and take his notepad instead. Tony just sighed and passed a hand through his hair, unconsciously bringing his hand to gently rub the sensitive skin on his neck, when Ziva had them all jump in surprise.

" What _is_ this?"

All five pairs of eyes looked in her direction. Ducky had shooed every other LEO that had been in there earlier, disrupting their scene, so it was only the team in the room. The team and a butchered body. Ziva didn't add anything, she was staring at Tony who was staring back at her with incomprehension written all over his face.

"What is what?" He asked, and then, suddenly thinking that there was something on him, he started shimming and dancing around, tapping his shoulders and neck to try and get whatever was on him _off_.

"DiNozzo stop it, you're gonna stomp on something," Gibbs ordered quite judiciously.

Tony froze in his movement, with one feet still in the air and his face all scrunched up in a comical grimace. By then, Ziva had made her way toward him (avoiding the dozens of marked evidence on the floor). Reaching out unceremoniously, she pulled on Tony's collar and then looked back at him as if she was waiting for him to say something. Ducky was already getting up and coming closer too.

"Oh my, Anthony, this certainly does _not_ seem pleasant, how did it happen?"

Tony was so distracted that it took him a few more seconds to understand. Well, actually, he had to pass his hand on his neck and feel the itchy skin to understand what they were all looking at. His eyes naturally went to Gibbs's only to find that they were dark and murderous.

"Oh, you're talking about that, Duck?" He asked unnecessarily, still fingering the mark he had circling his neck. "It's nothing big. Actually, I kinda had forgotten all about it until now," cue the reproachful glare towards Ziva.

"This was made by a knife," was the Israeli's answer.

"Sometimes I'm just so happy you know all about injuries and how to inflict them," Tony answered, keeping his tone light despite the sarcasm.

Internally, he was berating himself. How could he have forgotten this! He'd been lucky Saturday night when his collar had more or less hidden the fresh scar resulting of Elena's little stunt to his team. His luck hadn't lasted long. It never did. He was insisting it was nothing when Gibbs finally talked.

"Let Ducky check it."

It was a rather simple and plain sentence. Let Ducky check it. No exclamation mark. No _damn it_ _DiNozzo!_. Not even a head slap to punctuate it. But Gibbs had never seemed more angry at him. Tony obeyed, his eyes not once wavering from Gibbs's as the team leader cooled. It was nearly invisible to the naked eye but Tony could see it. The details showing that Gibbs was actually _struggling_ to calm down. His eyes were now stormy and he could practically see the tempest that was equally raging in his boss's mind. The others didn't. The others seemed to think that staring at him was more important. But _Tony_ knew. So he anchored his eyes to the team leader's. And they talked in their own way. Enough so that Gibbs didn't come to his face, throwing questions and ordering him to actually answer them.

"Have you had this looked at, my boy?" Ducky asked, perching himself to have a better look. "Oh my, it actually _circles_ your neck."

"What happened, Tony?" Ziva's voice was unusually soft but her hands betrayed her feelings as they contracted in fists for a second. With that Tony knew that she was about ready to bolt out of here to go Ninja-Chick on whoever was responsible's ass.

Tony just smiled that crooked smile he had mastered sometime in between calculus and dodge ball in high school. The one that -combined with a raise of his eyebrows- meant hot stuff (yes, he literally translated it to _hot stuff_ when he was 12).

" Kinky girl," he said as a way of explanation, and thinking back at Elena, it wasn't exactly a lie. That thought made him laugh and the light chuckle he let out seemed to intrigue even more those around him. "What! I'm a hundred percent serious right now. " He added, still smiling. "Abby even met her," he finally said, knowing that throwing them such a juicy bone was the only way to get away with it and let it drop for now. It worked.

"McGee, I said go talk to the staff. You want to make me repeat a _fourth_ time?" Gibbs's voice was threatening.

"No, boss," the junior agent said in a flat tone before leaving the room without another look at anyone of them. That brought Tony back to his serious mode.

"Enough with the stalling around, everybody back to work. DiNozzo you'll go with Ducky when we're back at the yard." Gibbs ordered before leaving the room too. The last thing Tony saw before his boss closed the door behind him was the phone on his hand. Well, Abby was probably going to be bombarded with questions when they were back. And she had probably already gathered the mother-of-all data on Elena and whoever else were on those surveillance pictures he'd heard about last Saturday. Looking around at the blood bath that was his immediate scenery, he sighed.

"And it looked like it was gonna be such a nice day."

.

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><p>.<p>

**Things are getting complicated, aren't they?**

So, did you spot the slight** BONES crossover? **It's the only FBI agent I can stand so I thought hey, why not, this is a fanfiction after all.

**.**

**Did you like the chapter? The whole Abby/Tony/Elena thing? McGee acting out? **

Do you want the first phone conversation between Tony and FBI Agent Booth? I wrote it but didn't keep it for some reason.


	9. Chapter 9

.

Hey, I'm gonna sound lame but please do let me know what you think, your reviews really keep me going. Thanks for reading anyway :)

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><p>.<p>

Gibbs being Gibbs, he held off asking Abby all about the neck scar (that she knew nothing about) and the famous kinky girl (that she probably knew everything about) to focus on the case. He would even snap his fingers every time Ziva's eyes would linger a second too long on her partner's neck and ask McGee to stop sulking around and "find him the damn pictures he wanted". All in all, Tony was as happy as a clam. He was, after all, the best at ignoring what he didn't want to acknowledge and focus on other things -for example, the current case. He would deal with the others later. Now his job and duty was to find the bad guys that did Petty Officer Mathews such a bad bad thing. By 3 in the afternoon, he was so totally enveloped in his work that he was actually surprised to hear FBI Agent Seeley Booth's voice on the other end of the line when he answered the phone.

"DiNozzo," he answered automatically while checking the numbers he had just pulled on his screen.

"_It's Booth, I've looked into that Munoz friend of yours._"

"Not planning on sending him a Facebook request anytime soon," Tony replied as he focused on the conversation, leaning back on his chair and momentarily neglecting his computer.

"_Yeah, I think I can see why. We already have a file on him but nothing big enough. If you have anything that could help actually pin him down, I'll take it._"

"I do. It'll be waiting for you when you get home tonight."

"_Well, that sounds nice and easy enough. You know, we have a couple other bad boys we want behind bars, can you just pop out incriminating evidence against them too or is this one special_?"

"Ha-ha, I'm like a dude-fairy, but I can only grant one wish."

"A_ dude-fairy? Where did you find that kind of fairies? Tell me so that I can not buy the book to my future son or daughter."_

"Ow man, you're already bringing everything you hear back to your kid?"

"_What, I'm happy_!"

"No, you're in the middle of that disgusting warm and fuzzy phase that comes just before your wife turns into Godzilla." Tony answered screwing his face in faked disgust.

Tony was actually glad the conversation had turned into something lighter for he knew his partners were both pricking their ears "just in case". Let them think he was just catching up with an old frat brother.

"_Ah, I had forgotten you were afraid of everything related to kids._"

"First, I'm not afraid, second, it's not kids, it's babies!"

"_Yeah right. Wait-_" Tony could hear fumbling again, and a woman voice that was too faint for him to hear. "_No Bones, I'm not joking around on the phone_." Seeley Booth was obviously not talking to him anymore. Tony kept silent as his friend resumed. "_Well no, it's not related to our case but.. Yes it's Tony again. What do you mean I sound like a kid when I talk to him? I was talking about the baby you're bearing, woman!_"

"Seeley, I'm gonna go now, my boss is walking back in and he's throwing me the evil eye. Tell your crazy chick I said hi. Oh, and I think I didn't say it before so here it is: good job on impregnating the woman you work with everyday!"

"_You_-"

Tony hung up before his friend could answer and found three pairs of curious eyes glancing his way. Gibbs and Ziva shook their heads slightly at the last comment he'd made on the phone and went back to work, but Tony could practically sense the tension ease around them. Hearing him have a casual -borderline silly- conversation with a friend of his helped them feel that things hadn't changed that much. He was still jokester Tony saying inappropriate things at inappropriate times. Ah, human minds were so simple to manipulate. Even if he hadn't done it on purpose he had felt how unconsciously good it was for them. Tony shook his head to focus and went back to work thinking he should probably write a book about human behavior.

.

.

The team caught its big break at around 1800 with Tony jumping off his chair to run to the printer and bring a piece of paper back with a conquering smile on and a "Aha!" that echoed beyond the bullpen. His colleagues rolled their eyes and Gibbs made a pressing nod with his head. Tony was nearly ecstatic as he gave his boss the piece of paper in his hand and walked back.

"I have to check it with Abby before we can be sure," he explained in his excited tone as he kept backpedalling out of the bullpen, "but Boss this is so great, I have so many quotes fighting for priority in my head… look, my hands are trembling boss!" he showed off his hands "I..I think my head might explode if I don't take some of the pressure off," he added in a over-worried voice.

And Tony really did look like a child on christmas morning. He was restraining himself from bouncing over to Abby to tell her what he'd found. Because he knew _she_ would get it.

"What is happening? I think I missed something," Ziva's accented voice came interrupting Tony's little show.

"Yes, what is it? Did you find something?"

"Only the best thing _ever_," Tony replied as he pushed the elevator button.

Gibbs sighed, "we're never gonna hear the end of this."

Tony shook his head frenetically to confirm Gibbs's fears. The elevator arrived and Tony got in, still walking backwards.

"What is it?" Ziva asked again, this time with annoyance (and a hint of amusement she couldn't hide).

Gibbs was the first to give the answer as he picked up his phone, still shaking his head in resignation:

"The damn butler did it."

"THE BUTLER DID IT!" Tony repeated with a huge smile just before the doors closed on him.

.

"Here you are, you! " Abby said as soon as she spotted Tony coming her way, pointing at him with her finger. She had that accusing stance he was -strangely enough- accustomed to and immediately turned around to retrieve a pair of surgical gloves from her desk. Putting them on, she made the elastic of one of them snap before facing back Tony with her hands held on each side of her face. The determined expression she wore made him want to both sigh and laugh as she wiggled her fingers. He could easily imagine her with a mask on her face and demanding "scalpel" with an evil glint in her eyes as she was about to create a new Frankeinstein's Monster (Tony was sure she could actually do it if she wanted). But when she opened her mouth, she didn't ask for an instrument.

"We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way."

She seemed dead serious when she said it, but he knew she was half teasing. Only this sentence was so fresh in his mind it felt like a bomb had went off in his chest, hearing it coming from her lips. Not two days ago he was sitting in a diner using that very same, cliché, phrase to make a man talk. And _he_ had _not_ been joking. For a second he wondered if she had really said it. Maybe he was just mixing things up. Wouldn't be the first time. His mind was messed up enough to start making up words in his head and he hadn't had enough sleep the night before.

"But I advise you chose the easy way if you want to report back to Gibbs with the use of all five of your senses." Abby went on, advancing on him.

Nope, he hadn't been mistaken. He couldn't say anything when she extended her hands to his neck to feel the sensitive mark that had shocked everyone earlier. Tony didn't know what the big deal was. It wasn't a real scar, the knife hadn't even cut the skin, it was just a bit red and slightly swollen. McGee'd had worse trying to put on his socks not two weeks earlier (true story)!

"Abbs," he began, his voice low in his throat as he wanted to express his exasperation at her careful ministrations.

"Before you say it: I know you went to see Ducky. But I have to check for myself. Now I don't have a real medical formation, but I'm an expert in all things scar related. Remember that picture I had hanging on that wall a few years ago? Super cool zoomed picture of a very gory scar from a guy Ducky had introduced me to. Well, he was a corpse at the morgue, but still, I think it counts -"

"It sure does, but Abbs this is not the time," Tony interrupted her as he gently took her hands in his and pushed them away, trying hard not to rearrange the collar that everyone kept pulling at to have a better view of his neck. He didn't like that. A few black and white Dracula scenes popped up in his mind but he pushed them away.

"I'm here for the case, I think we know who did it"

Abby frowned and walked back to her computer to pull out the last searches she's been doing on the big screen.

"If you're still on the cousin's theory, I'm pretty sure it's not him. I'm still waiting for the last-"

"No Abbs. I'm quite sure we got our guy though, and I need you to pull the fingerprints from the toiletries in the bathroom and compare them to the ones Ziva brought last. The ones from the door handle?"

"Okay. But this seems way too easy. I've seen the pictures, Tony, this looks like a good week case at least," Abby babbled as she quickly tapped on her keyboard with her attention actually directed to the screen. Tony sighed with envy. He so wished he could do that.

"You know just as well as I do that the we can't judge how hard a case is by the amount of blood on the scene. It would be helpful, but we can't."

"Okay let's see... There are three sets of fingerprints from doorhandles, two boys and a lady. Well, I don't know her so I'm not sure-"

"Xavier Leroy", Tony answered before Abby could start a list of the criteria needed to be considered a lady. He was actually eager for her to pull the picture of the man. He was barely containing himself.

"Got it," she said as she tapped some more and the picture of a well groomed but overall common man appeared on the screen of the closer computer. "Now let's see if they match"

Tony took the few seconds Abby needed to compare both sets of fingerprints to explain what had him thinking it was their guy. Just as he was done claiming his greatness had done all the work, the computer went "ding" and a "Positive" popped on the screen. Tony smiled.

"I guess I was wrong. Nice, I won't have to cancel the dinner with the nuns tomorrow! I really thought I'd have to pull some all-nighters working on that scene. And see, I totally knew you had a third eye. How could you have thought about looking into that Leroy guy business without it? Huh. His name's Leroy? Creepy." Sluuurp.

"It wasn't my third eye," Tony said when she paused to take a sip of the Caf-pow! Gibbs had brought her earlier. "I wanted it to be him so much I had to check."

Abby frowned, not taking her lips off the straw but making a funny face that was probably meant to ask _Why_?

"Look at what he does Abbs." Tony said, nodding toward her computer. Intrigued, she went to her keyboards to tap some more before Leroy's record appeared.

"No. Way." Abby said, slowly turning to face him before her face broke into a big grin. "Gibbs is going to flip when he understands what this means."

"Oh don't worry, he knows."

"It's the butler that did it!" Abby burst out faking a British accent before she fell into a fit of giggles.

.

.

As it turned out, Mr. Leroy was waiting for a cab outside his place when Ziva and Tony arrived to bring him in. The man had had enough sense to immediately take out his phone when he saw the two NCIS Agents coming his way.

"Hey there buddy, remember us? We met this morning. And who are you so eager to call?"Tony asked as he just took the phone from the hands of the butler to take a look before he slapped the thing closed.

"My lawyer," Xavier Leroy informed calmly.

"You're smarter than you look," Ziva noted to Tony's amusement. And the man even had the audacity to look insulted. Tony shook his head, sighing. They were always so confident before they got to meet Gibbs.

.

Leroy was perfectly silent in the back of the car as Tony drove them back to the navy yard. Actually, he had asked if cuffing him was really necessary, Ziva had shot him a Mossad-y look, and he hadn't opened his mouth since.

"So, Zee-va," Tony started without turning to look at her. He sensed her look on his face and simply said, "Talk to me." They had a fifty minutes time frame for that conversation before they would arrive to the Navy Yard and he intended on using it.

"About?" The woman sincerely answered and Tony rolled his eyes over-dramatically.

"The Lion King III, your feelings about cheese and how cool is Jerry from accounting office's new hair style. Talk to me about McGee, Ziva!"

"Oh, I'm glad I don't really have to talk about Jerry's hair, I don't like it at all."

"Nobody does, poor guy, but that's not the point. McGee, go."

She didn't talk right away, and Tony took a look at the rear-view mirror to check on the man they were bringing back with them. As his eyes went back to the road, he wondered once again how plain looking that man was. He didn't look like a man that could kill so violently and with so much hatred as they had seen at the crime scene. Would someone look at him, Tony, one day and wonder the very same thing? _How could that guy have done that?_ Now was not the time to thing about Tatallia. And throwing up in the NCIS car was not an option either. Fortunately, Ziva finally decided to talk.

"He is not.." she stopped, momentarily looking for the right word, "coping well."

"With what exactly?" Tony asked though he knew the answer.

"Everything that is happening. I don't think McGee likes realizing he was wrong." Ziva assessed very seriously and yet talking casually as if she'd known that this conversation would happen eventually.

"And what would he be wrong about?"

"You know very well what I'm referring to. We both know McGee grew very self-confident this last months-"

"Years," Tony corrected.

"Yes, years." She paused again and they both stayed silently thinking a moment. "I first thought he was jealous. We all read the reports about your undercover mission, it is very impressive, Tony."

He didn't answer despite the pause she took for that purpose. It made her smile.

"McGee has gotten better in the field and has developed good 'cop instincts' but he never had any big case like yours."

"I have years on him."

"You didn't when they sent you on that mission. He noticed. We all did. You had just been made detective. Abby told us this at least twenty times. You should have seen her pace in your apartment, going over everything she knew. I proposed we went grocery shopping just to take her mind off things."

"Thank you," Tony said sincerely, glancing her way for the first time to let her see he was serious. "But I know a McJealous when I see it, and this is not what today was about."

"I know. Things have changed this week-end and I am not sure I know the reason why. He seemed angry and confused."

"He _gets_ angry _when_ confused," Tony said with a smile.

"Are we there yet?" came the haughty voice of the man forgotten on the back seat.

"See Ziva, I told you we should have adopted a girl instead. Boys are always so impatient!" Tony commented, ignoring the man behind them.

His lame joke seemed to work on Ziva as she chuckled and looked at him sideways. Well, apparently kids harassed their parents with "_are we there yet_"s even in Israel. It was probably a universal thing, Tony decided as he carefully compartmentalized the previous conversation in a mental box he closed for the time being, focusing back on the criminal in the car with them instead.

"So Xavier, do people call you Leroy? Because I know another Leroy that once threatened to neuter a man because the poor guy had called him that."

Ziva had her usual amused and smug smile back on as he threw her a long suffering look with a little nod that meant "_I'm not making this up. I _was_ the man in question_". In the rear-view mirror, he spotted the butler frowning.

"And hey, wasn't it going against your butler instincts to leave such a mess when you left this morning?"

Ziva made a show out of looking back at Leroy, taking out her iPod and putting the earbuds in. The butler groaned. Tony's smile widened. _Hey Sociopath, let's play_.

" By the way, have you ever seen Clue?"

.

.

By the time they had arrived back at the yard, Leroy's composure was crumbling. Gibbs seemed well aware of what had been going on when he entered the interrogation room smirking at the man that had his head in his hands.

"Oh hey boss!" Tony welcomed happily, slapping the table with his hands to make the suspect -that was leaning on it- jolt. "Guess what we did on the way over," he asked eagerly to his boss, seeing the glint of amusement in the eyes of Gibbs despite the cold facade the Team Leader kept. "We played 'I spy'!" He said without waiting for an answer.

They really had played. Well, he had. He had won the game by spying with his awesome eye a murderer about to get life behind bars. Xavier -yes, they were on first name basis now- hadn't appreciated the humor. Murderers about to get life rarely did.

Gibbs signaled his agent that he'd done his job and Tony nodded as he got up and turned around the table to walk by the butler's chair as he left. The man didn't look up from the spot he was staring at on the table. That is, until Tony unexpectedly clapped Leroy's shoulder with enthusiasm, making the man practically jump on his feet as his head shot up.

"I'm gonna hit the head, do you want me to bring you something to drink on my way back?" Tony asked politely before the man shook his shoulder to lose the hand on it. "I promise I'll wash my hands first," Tony elegantly added, raising a hand to show the scout's salute.

Gibbs didn't try to hide his little smile as he made a last motion of the head to shoo Tony out. The Senior Field Agent finally opened the door and disappeared.

.

When he entered the observation room, Tony found his two partners carefully watching what was happening on the other side of the glass. Gibbs hadn't started talking yet, looking at some papers in a folder and letting the last remnants of calm Xavier Leroy had in him dissolve before lunging. Ziva welcomed him with a smile that congratulated him on his performance and turned her attention back on the show, her arms crossed under her chest. McGee didn't move for a moment. Only when Gibbs finally opened his mouth did Probie decide he had something to say.

"Doesn't it make you sick?" he said, turning to face Tony's side as the senior agent had just come closer.

"Are you leaving the question open to interpretation so that I can enumerate everything that sickens me?" Tony answered in a flippant tone without detaching his gaze from Xavier Leroy.

"You playing friends with that man. You saw what he did, didn't you? A blood bath, body parts everywhere. It was him. And yet look at you, joking around with him, clapping his shoulders with that big smile on your face.."

"McGee, you know it is only a method of interrogation," Ziva soothed though keeping a neutral tone in case Tony didn't want her involved. He signaled her to stay out of it with a quick movement of his hand without even raising it. McGee, on his other side, hadn't noticed.

"I know, Ziva. That's why I'm asking. Doesn't it make you sick? Having to play that part?" McGee added, pressing Tony with an expression that made him look like he wasn't sure he wanted the answer. It looked like morbid curiosity. Over Tony.

"Clarify your question, McGee," Tony finally said, slowly turning his head to his junior in a casual movement but with burning eyes, "Are you asking me if I like playing _that_ part, or are you asking me if I'm even playing _a_ part?"

There was silence then. Heavy, tension filled, never-ending silence. McGee's eyes were locked to Tony's and he couldn't talk nor break it. Tony could feel the other man wanting to look away and yet trying to find something in that stare down. Whatever it was he was looking for, Tony knew he wouldn't find. Not when his shields were up.

"He can't stop playing with that ring," came Ziva's voice.

"Yes. Looks like he's not used to wearing it," Tony confirmed without even glancing at the interrogation room.

A few seconds passed before McGee seemed to realize something, his expression shifted and he turned his attention back to the glass.

"There's the trace of a missing ring on one of the victim's fingers," he said before turning to his partners.

"You think?" was Tony's sarcastic reply. Gibbs seemed to sense that his words were used elsewhere because he slightly turned his head to the right, towards them.

"Time to go back," Ziva interpreted.

Tony nodded and went to the door, opening it before he paused.

"And by the way, my answer's no," he said with a hand on the handle and ready to go.

"To which question?" McGee couldn't help but ask before Tony could close the door.

"You choose."

.

.

Turned out the Butler didn't break as quickly as they'd thought. They'd talked about the ring. Explained it was incriminating evidence as there was trace of blood on it (despite being cleaned), which meant the butler must've had taken it from the body of Petty Officer Mathews. The man had denied. Then Leroy Jethro had presented incriminating evidence #1, the off-shore bank accounts that had been Tony's stroke of genius as there had been no trace of such an account. And well, of course, there was the one way ticket to Morocco -of all places- conveniently booked for the very day of the murder. That's when Gibbs had pulled his "we don't actually need you to confess to anything. The evidence is enough". And still, the man hadn't broken. He wasn't denying anymore, but he wasn't talking either. And Gibbs wanted to know the _why_, so he wasn't about to just close the case and let the man be arrested. Instead he shrugged, got up and threw a "If that's how you want to play it.." look to the suspect before he got out.

They made him wait 30 minutes before the door opened again, and Xavier Leroy groaned.

"Hey pal, missed me?"

"What am I still doing here?" Leroy answered immediately as Tony sat opposite him and got his phone out. He had two texts.

"We're waiting for Gibbs, I'm here to babysit," Tony said distractedly as he continued checking his phone. The man narrowed his eyes suspiciously but said nothing. Tony chuckled, shook his head, and started typing on his phone, sticking his tongue out a bit as if he it was taking him some great effort of concentration and application.

"Sorry Xavier, I'm with you in a sec. I'm just answering to that girl. You should see her Xavier," he looked up then and widened his eyes as he drew the forms of a curvy woman in the air. "Well, I shouldn't tell you that. She's more than just pretty face, really. Great personality. Excellent at what she does.. the whole package deal. You know, a long time ago I even considered .. you know… having a real relationship with her. I thought, huh, why not? She's your friend, she's awesome, why not try? She may be the one!" Tony was babbling as he was still on his phone trying to compose a reply. He stopped talking from time to time when he was too focused on his phone. "Damn auto-correct, never guesses right!" He blurted a few seconds later.

As he clicked send, he finally looked up and smiled. If only he could see what was happening behind the glass in observation. He knew Abby had joined the others there and this was just too funny. Best part? Every word he said was true.

"I knew she was not my usual type,"

"Let me guess, bimbos?" Xavier intervened sarcastically. It looked like he hadn't meant to say it out loud but couldn't help it. Tony wanted to cheer. _See, I knew you could talk, my little sociopath_.

"What can I say, I don't have time for the real thing," Tony pretended he hadn't noticed the haughty tone the suspect had used. "But then, when I started really being friends with her, I really thought maybe this could be her. So what she's not blond, she doesn't need to be protected and she'd certainly kick my ass in every possible IQ test there is," Tony paused and sighed, looking wistfully to the ceiling. "But you know, there's the job, the fifty-something rules, and she has a real creepy father-figure that kinda blocked me right away when I understood their relationship so.. now we're just friends." He shrugged and looked back at his cell to check the time. Let the party begin.

.

.

On the other side of the glass, there was silence as everyone heard the SFA naturally talking as if he was sitting with an old buddy over pizza and beer. McGee and Palmer were the only ones missing in the observation room as Abby and Ducky had joined, and even though Gibbs felt it was too many in the little room, he still thanked God it was late and the other teams were already gone because everybody had heard about the bloody crime scene and it would probably have attracted more onlookers that Gibbs could have were always a few Agents coming to watch Tony interrogate a suspect. It was a well known fact in the agency that sometimes it was better than watching a movie with popcorn. Even then, bets were running between partners. Ziva had bet Tony'd use the Tetris trick, Abby had 'tss-ed' and declared that he was obviously gonna go with the unexpected outburst of pure rage.

"..now we're just friends." they heard him say over the glass.

"How intriguing. Do you think Anthony is talking about someone we know, Jethro?" Ducky asked with a knowing glint in his eyes as he addressed Gibbs with a half-smile.

"Ziva, Abby, which one of you texted him?" Gibbs said without turning his stare away from his agent.

"And why exactly would we text him, Fearless Leader?" Abby asked defensively, crossing her arms under her chest.

"To ask him which technique he'd use," Gibbs answered without a doubt. He didn't need to see them to know that Abby had made a face and Ziva's brows had furrowed. Busted.

"It was me", both women said in one voice. "What?" they said in unison again as they turned to each other, shocked.

"So he's talking about you?" Abby asked, confused.

"Or you?" Ziva added.

"Wait, why would he say you have a creepy fath.. oh, never mind." Abby mumbled.

"And who'd be yours?" Ziva questioned. Abby rolled her eyes and shook her head toward Gibbs in a very unsubtle way.

"Obviously," she whisper-yelled.

"Huh. It does make sense," Ziva realized.

"Anyway, you ladies have both just admitted you cheated," Ducky intervened,"So I fear you both lose, and thus the money goes to the third better. You can give it to me, I will pass his gain to Mr. Palmer."

Both women looked at him indignantly just when Tony, on the other side, got up and came facing them. He could probably see nothing more than his own reflection but still, he smiled knowingly at the glass and winked.

"You sneaky.." Abby stopped her sentence when she heard Gibbs chuckle. The sound was so unexpected coming from him, it had all eyes turning to him.

"You've just been DiNozzo'ed."

Tony would later ask Abby to repeat three times and then go check on the story with Ziva, and still, he wouldn't ever believe Leroy Jethro Gibbs had actually just said that.

.

.

"And so then, the situation was kinda awkward. I mean, how do you explain such a scar? Yeah, I have this friend, a girl, that likes to play hot and cold and well.. she has a knife she likes to use for the cold part? I'm not sure my boss would appreciate. And I think probie would just faint. Anyway, what was I telling you?" Tony had started talking animatedly, putting Abby's best ramblings to a shame as he laughed and played every emotions he was telling on his face and with his hands. He knew his team was listening, so he threw some real info on things he knew they wanted to know. Elena had been the first one. Than he talked about that "crazy dude you shouldn't trust with your kitchen knife" - aka, Lorenzo. He made up stories that he mixed with the truth, and somehow he ended up talking about the Lords of the Rings and how his own Probie probably had read the books twenty times when he was a kid.

"I'm not saying I didn't like the movies," Tony said as if he was defending his opinion when actually the other man hadn't opened his mouth since the comment on the bimbos, "I mean, there were some pretty neat special effects. Actually, the movies are good -don't tell Probie I told you that- it's just that.. well, the talking trees totally freaked me out," Tony whispered, leaning in as if he was confiding a big secret.

Xavier Leroy's foot started tapping against the foot of the table. Tony got more animated, pushing back his chair and getting up, using his whole Italian heritage as he moved his hands around to emphasis his words when he talked.

"Seriously, talking and moving trees? How can that_ not_ freak you out? Let's say you're just walking by in a forest, minding your own business, and then BAM-" Tony slapped the butler's back, and this time the man not only jolted but jumped from his chair as well. Tony didn't seem to care as the man didn't take his sit back, choosing to stand behind the table, his fists tightening. His face was coloring and he looked surprisingly lost and agitated.

"A tree opens his eyes. A tree. Eyes! Com'on! Well anyway, let's not talk about that anymore," Tony seemed to calm down a moment before something occurred to him "Hey I didn't even ask you, did you like the movies?"

Xavier Leroy had no intention of answering, but it didn't really matter as Tony didn't actually give him the occasion to. He resumed right away, eyes widening and mouth opening as he had apparently remembered something else about the movie.

"And that thing. Gollum! What's with the ring, pal, relax!" he exclaimed as if he was actually talking to the fictional creature. He started crouching, scrunching his face and crawling a bit, changing his voice "my precious, my precious" he chanted for a few seconds.

Tony couldn't believe he was actually doing this. He would have to go home after that and watch every Steve McQueen, James Dean, or Cary Grant movies ever made to remember the definition of class after he was done. Plus, this was a long shot. If the man didn't bite, he would just have ridiculed himself. Not one to let his dropping self-esteem ever diminish one of his performance, Tony gave all he had into that part. This was the moment to show the world (or the people that were probably laughing their asses off in observation) that he could have won an Oscar if he'd wanted to (whatever his partners may say).

"Oh wait, wait, I even have the props," Tony slipped out of character for a second, digging in his pocket and taking out one of the evidence plastic bags. There was a ring in it, and Tony quickly took it out before throwing the bag away. He looked at it thoughtfully, "it isn't quite the same but let's say it's all part of the magic of theatre," he shrugged and crouched again, becoming Gollum again and playing with the ring again.

He dropped it inadvertently once, and the butler rushed to get it but Tony was quicker. He pretended he hadn't noticed. He pretended he wasn't aware that Leroy's eyes were stuck on the ring as Tony made a creepily accurate impersonation of Golum.

"Stop playing with it," the man softly said without looking up. He had his head down but his eyes still locked on Tony's hands. His tone was frosty.

"And there's something slimy about his skin, it's disgusting," Tony continued in his normal voice, "but the hobbit boy is always touching him. It's just wrong. Oh, and his always drooling all over.."

Tony drew the ring closer to his mouth and the man must have thought he was about to lick it or spit on it because he made a sudden dash toward him, crashing Tony on the wall.

"Hey, calm down," Tony said as if he was just surprised, but the man had lost it. He snatched the ring away from Tony's hands but didn't move away. Placating an arm against the Agent's throat, Leroy pinned him against the wall.

"How dare you touch it like that?" He raged, "do you know what this is? Do you, little piece of trash? Do you know what kind of man it belonged to? You're just like that Mathews worthless scum!"

His eyes were dark and spoke violence and hatred. He was a totally different man.

"Well hello there, Mr. Sociopath. I've been meaning to talk to you," Tony greeted flippantly. Just then, the door blew open and three armed people barged in. Ziva and Gibbs were wielding their guns. Tony looked at Abby and managed a little chuckle.

"I told you to stop pointing that taser at me, Abbs."

.

.

Once Leroy had began talking, he apparently couldn't shut up. Gibbs had sat at his previous spot and Tony had left the room with the two women of his team (both of which took the time to throw dark glares at the suspect that had attacked Tony). Tony found Ducky waiting for him in the observation room, ready to start pocking and prodding his neck to try and determine if Leroy had done any damage.

"I'm fine, Duck, the man has the strength of a puppy."

"Yes, well I spent the morning trying to piece together the young Petty Officer that that puppy killed, so I will examine you and you will no whine about it," Ducky said very seriously. "Unless you want me to ask Jethro to land me a hand," the doctor didn't even wait until he finished his threat before he started feeling Tony's neck again.

"And don't underestimate puppies, Tony," Abby informed with a very serious face, "I worked on that case once where.."

Tony didn't interrupt his friend as she told the story of a case he had already heard about from one of his colleague, Ziva hadn't and was very intrigued by what she was hearing while the SFA was trying to understand what was going on on the other side of the glass. He had seen Gibbs sit back and he could just picture the blank face of his boss as he stared at the murderer opposite him.

.

But Tony hadn't guessed right. Gibbs's expression wasn't blank. He had raised and eyebrow and looked at the man with a satisfied cold smirk. He didn't say the words but his face was just as clear. Gibbs had a way of expressing himself without opening his mouth sometimes.

'_See what you made me do? You should just have answered my questions. I'm the easy __way here_.'

.

.

It was late and everybody was tired, but none of them was complaining about it. Gibbs had been called to the Director's office and he'd left his three agents working on the paperwork to truly call the case closed before they went home. Nevermind it was nearing 2100 hours and they should all have been home more than a few hours earlier. They had closed a gruesome murder case in one day, and they were too glad to whine about it. McGee had finished in record time and had hurried downstairs as he'd been summoned by Abby a few minutes earlier, which left Ziva and Tony alone again.

"I forgot to mention something in the car," Ziva said as soon as Tim was gone. "We came here earlier than usual today, we wanted to go see Abby first. Gibbs was here too."

Tony sighed, knowing what was coming next.

"We saw the surveillance pictures the FBI took this week-end. You were on a lot of them. And Gibbs had Abby look into every person on it. We talked, and Gibbs told us about Freddy Rossi."

"Just how early did you come, exactly?" Tony asked flippantly. Ziva paused a second -she hadn't looked up from her screen- and found Tony's eyes on her.

"At seven."

"Leaves you two hours to work the case, nice. But it's not gonna be enough."

"There is no case per say. Well.. maybe Gibbs did treat it like some sort of a case," the woman thought.

"Why are you telling me this, Zee-vah? Didn't Gibbs swear you to secrecy or something?"

"No. You asked what was bugging McGee. I think it was the pictures. He looked shocked when he saw them."

"Why? Did I have a bad hair-day? I've changed my shampoo last week, and I just know my hair is not the same anymore!" Tony said feigning worry.

"No, it is not your hair Tony. Though I did think I smelt strawberry on you earlier. Did you buy your new shampoo at the little girls' shop?"

Tony rolled his eyes but half-smiled anyway (he'd try to discretely smell his hair later, but tried to look cool as Ziva resumed).

"It was slightly disturbing watching you on surveillance pictures, Tony. It really looked like we were looking at a stranger dealing with the mafia. Or maybe leading it. A lot of people appear to follow you everywhere you walk."

Tony thought about Alceo and the boys, then about Elena and Francesca, trying to remember if he'd gone out with them in front of the FBI cars.

"Did it shock _you_?" Tony asked, pushing it as usual but staying as light as he could. He didn't know why he wanted to know.

"No, it didn't. But I was told Elena Filangieri and I looked a lot alike. I don't see it but McGee and Abby seemed to think we had the same style."

Well, this answered that.

"Only because you're both beautiful," Tony said in a overly charming voice. It was Ziva's turn to roll her eyes but smile.

"I think it has more to do with the fact that she can use a gun," she said, tilting her head and looking at him in a knowing manner that told Tony she knew about the little incident of the day before. Even thought he could sense something was bothering her, he didn't ask. She'd tell him. Or get over it. Ziva wasn't the kind of girl that liked to talked about feelings like that.

So he smiled and shook his head, wondering what exactly Abby could have told them all. He'd have to talk to her soon. Maybe he could come early too, seeing as how it was apparently what people did when they wanted alone time with her.

Less than ten minutes later, Gibbs appeared on the stairs behind Tony's desk and told them they could leave their reports on his desk and go. He didn't wait for their goodbyes before he went back in, leaving his Senior Field Agent perplexed.

.

.

"We talked about the case. We talked about the new policies. Now can you tell me what you really want, Leon?" Gibbs asked quietly when he got back in the director's office.

Leon Vance had gotten up when the leader of the MCRT had left to let his people know they could go. Now standing facing the window behind his desk, he wondered what would happen if Gibbs ever forgot to give them the permission someday. Would they just wait around all night? Vance snorted, the question was stupid. Gibbs never forgot anything. Taking his time before answering, Leon took out a toothpick from his pocket and unwrapped it. He put it in his mouth, letting it hang on his dry lips as he finally decided to talk.

"I don't beat around the bush, Gibbs. I asked about the case because I'm the director of this agency and I do check on the cases my teams work on."

"And we closed the Mathews case, so we're not currently working on anything."

"Yes, you did close it rather quickly. I understand DiNozzo helped," the director's words formed a question as he turned his head to see Gibbs.

"He always does," Gibbs answered bluntly.

"As I said, I don't like beating around the bush, so here's the question I want you to answer. And think about it long and hard before you do: is your agent gone rogue?"

Gibbs's didn't blink, but inside the words sparked a fire of anger and a surge of loyalty. There may have been doubt somewhere in there, but Gibbs was never a man in touch with his feelings, so maybe he just didn't notice it. He sure didn't acknowledge it in Vance's office.

"So it's not _your_ agency and _your_ teams anymore, huh?" Gibbs noted coldly before he really answered, "_my_ agents do not go _rogue_ or else they wouldn't be on my team."

"If you're so damn sure, why did you gather the rest of the team in the lab today?" Vance shot back, unimpressed. "Whatever you may think, I do know what happens in _my_ agency," he added to Gibbs's raised eyebrows.

The team leader snorted but didn't open his mouth to answer his boss's latest question.

"So you trust him?"

"He's the best agent I've ever worked with," Gibbs answered matter-of-factly. Vance's eyes narrowed.

"Can he lead?"

Gibbs didn't need to take a second to think about it. The answer shot out of his mouth immediately.

"**Can you **_**breathe**_?"

.

.

Ziva had proposed they dined together when Gibbs had ordered them away. Tony had hesitated a minute, thinking about the file he had to give Booth and the millions of other little things he probably had to do at his place. But McGee and Abby had came in at that moment, and as he remembered the last offer to hang out with his team that he had turned down, he smiled and nodded. They decided to trust Abby and his choice for the restaurant. The two friends had discovered the place once when Abby was over at his place and he'd had nothing to offer in his cupboard. It was a little place that looked like nothing fancy but was good and comfortable. It had become one of Tony's favorite whenever he craved Italian food but was to lazy to actually cook.

Everyone parked their cars in front of Tony's apartment to walk together rather than go look for the place by themselves, and Tony and Ziva had somehow found themselves left behind by the two geeks and their animated debates on one internet thingy or another. At one point, Abby turned to the two partners walking behind them and took a picture without warning.

"Hey! People pay for pictures like that, next time ask so that we can actually make ourselves presentable," Tony had exclaimed in his best superficial fashion.

"You mean make yourself pretty?" Ziva teased next to him as Abby explained it was to send Jimmy so that he could see what he was missing.

"Yeah, Palmer is gonna be so pissed when he sees us walking in the streets while he's with his super-hot girlfriend having hot monkey sex," Tony mumbled sarcastically for Ziva's ears only. She poked him with the elbow but chuckled anyway.

"You were telling me about your friend and his son," she reminded him after McGee and Abby started talking jibberish and they were left again.

"Yes! that kid was like a monster," Tony said, remembering Seeley's son Parker, "Running around and yelling things that didn't make sense, I swear, I'm never going to a 5 year-old birthday party ever again. I seriously thought I wouldn't make it. I mean, do I look like I want to play hide and seek with a bunch of kids when there are hot _single_ mommies around?"

"You're disgusting, Tony!"

"Well, don't you worry for my awesome past-self though, turns out, mommies like the guys that can deal with kids rather than run away crying," he wiggled his eyebrows to make his meaning even more obvious.

"Which, as I understood, you were nearly going to do," Ziva reminded, amused.

"Yes but my friend had forbidden me to leave the house before the birthday cake. And the moms, Ziva. The moms. I couldn't leave the moms!" Tony cried before he spotted McGee being pulled by the arm by Abby as she was showing him something on the ground. Tony and Ziva naturally stopped, choosing not to regroup with their friends, comfortable in their own conversation.

"It is odd that you don't like kids," Ziva thought aloud.

"It is? Why?"

"Well, I thought that _birds of a feather flock together_, yes?" She added the question, unsure of the use of the expression.

"Yes. And very clever, Ziva! The first real, complete American expression you use is to tell me I'm a kid. I'm sure you're very proud."

"Well, I must say .. I am," she said a little cockily, "now you can stop laughing at me every time I say something."

"Look at you now, strutting about like a cock! One success, and you already forget years of funny as hell inaptitude with our dear language," Tony paused and saw Ziva's face lose her boastfulness and frown. "Oh my, I lost you at the cock thing, didn't I?"

"No you didn't," she obviously lied (he snickered), "I understood you perfectly. Let's talk about your fear of children."

"Hey, it is a perfectly normal fear! The shrink doing the yearly evals told me it was very common!" Tony defended himself, "and let me inform you that I am the favorite uncle to a lot more -unrelated to me- kids than you'd think."

"What? Kids actually call you Uncle Tony? We should arrest their parents for letting you get so close!"

"Ha-ha!" Tony made a face and rolled his eyes. Ziva's face grew softer and more serious.

"But don't you ever think about having your own?" she asked, and there was something gentle about the way she'd voiced the words. Tony tried to find a way back to lighter, more casual conversation. He smiled with self-deprecation and shrugged.

"Com'on Ziva, do you see _me_ as a father? I'd be a walking hazard for my kids," he laughed halfheartedly and he could feel that she didn't truly believe him.

Then her whole stance shifted, stiffening and going from casual to on alert. Something fell in Tony's chest as he saw her eyes look past his shoulder to someone else. Behind her, Tony spotted Abby looking in his direction but beyond and frenetically tugging on McGee's sleeve to make him look up. Tony didn't want to turn around. Damn, this was so not good.

**" Now now, Anthony, don't be ridiculous. You and I both know you'd make a very good **_**Father,**_**" Carmine Achenza said behind him. **

.

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><p>So? What do you think? Should I stop writing i<strong>nterrogation scenes<strong> because I suck at them? What do you think of **Ziva & Tony**'s relationship?  
>Oh and more importantly... how awesome was the<strong> last episode of NCIS?<strong> (with the return of DiNozzo Sr.)

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**Next on Honor Thy Father : **Gibbs learns new information on his SFA, Carmine is in town, McGee is on fire (not literally. Well, actually I _could_ make that happen.)


	10. Chapter 10

Hello beloved readers, please do read the final note =)  
>Thank yous to all of you who reviewed, you make me want to go on and actually see this project through.<p>

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><p>NCIS "Singled out" : '<em>Oh trust me, when DiNozzo thinks he's ready for his own team, you'll know about it. Hell, the whole world will know about it!' -<em>Gibbs

_._

_._

When he had entered the room, Gibbs had known he'd probably leave pissed off. He always did. What he didn't know though, was that he'd be told that maybe it was time Senior Field Agent of the MCRT Anthony DiNozzo changed scenery. Gibbs's barely veiled threats about what he'd do if the director even thought about transferring Tony away had lead to some more surprise. Vance wasn't trying to get rid of DiNozzo. 'He wasn't stupid', apparently, and had understood the agent's value though he didn't have to liked it. But DiNozzo was getting involved with nasty people and the FBI was already breathing down the director's neck to do something about it. Then Gibbs had been handed a file. A heavy one.

"DiNozzo's been offered four positions since Director Shepard's first one. He systematically turned them down. He forgot to mention not to tell anyone after he said no to the last one so I'm telling you about the last one, and that one only," Vance said tilting his head to make himself understood, "I think DiNozzo should understand that this opportunity is the perfect way to get out of the mess he's making for himself. If he stays and doesn't stop whatever he's doing, this may well be the last one he'll have."

Leon had stared, Gibbs had kept silent.

Actually, he had been stunned and still was thirty minutes after he'd left the office. How could he have missed something that big? Why did Tony pass on such opportunities? Damn fool, he deserved more headslaps than Gibbs could give.

There was also worry growing in Gibbs's stomach as he opened the file and remembered Vance's last words before the agent left the room:

"I may be a bastard sometimes, but I look after my own. That is, if they even are my own."

The _mess_ Tony was currently involved in could be harmful to more than just his career. If the FBI was so interested in him, one wrong move could not only destroy his chances at promotions but also make him lose his badge.

Sitting at his desk with the light of his little lamp on, Gibbs read the documents he'd been given from the first line to the last. It didn't help his churning gut. Damn, Tony'd been offered some pretty big jobs. The comparison to his current position was not even fair. Rota had been the first one, and Gibbs couldn't believe Jenny had actually offered. Gibbs could remember every detail of a short conversation they'd had. He'd been so sure then.

_Well, Leroy, guess you were wrong again. _

He had to ask if the others knew. Maybe Ducky or Abby. The first one was alway guessing everything without it needing to be said, and he knew Tony and Abby were very close friends. He had to ask them. Looking over at Tony's desk he sighed and took his glasses off. How long has it been since that fateful day they met at Baltimore? The case had been a particularly bad one. The they finally closed it, he had talked to Captain Ellis of the Baltimore PD, the man had just shaken his head and shrugged. "_He was yours the minute he agreed to work with you, Agent Gibbs. I'm not sure you're quite ready for him though. Two years, and I'm still wondering how the hell he works, and how the hell we managed without him before_."

He had managed for 9 years and thought he had done well, but there he was, all those years later, finally starting to understand the feeling.

.

.

Abby stifled a yelp when she saw it happening again. The change in Tony. One second he was usual Tony, the next, power radiated from him. But not the obvious, authoritative-barking-orders-gruff-and-closed-off Gibbs kind of power. On the contrary, his body seemed to relax and that was _so_ wrong in Abby's eyes. Why would Tony _relax_ in the presence of Carmine Achenza, head of Baltimore's most dangerous mafia family? Did it mean that he was tense when he was with his friends? No, that made no sense, Abby had just snapped a picture of him laughing, with warmth in his eyes and seemingly perfectly at ease. And yet, here he was, facing the man some people called Father and not even slightly surprised by his appearance. Abby felt McGee walk toward them and she clutched his arm to make him stop. She couldn't let McGee be swallowed in the hinky aura surrounding Achenza and Tony right now.

.

Tony didn't bulge once his eyes locked with Carmine. The last words of the Father still echoing in his mind, he laughed. A frosty, brief little snicker that he didn't know just gave the creeps to his very best friend standing behind him.

"I'm not in a hurry," he finally said with a shrug.

Carmine smiled and he looked like a wolf having found his prey. His eyes seemed more piercing than ever in the dark, with the street lights and the moon casting animated shadows on his face. He looked more dangerous than ever, and yet Tony's instinctive reaction was to make a step forward, entering into the man's personal space. Before he could even open his mouth to speak again, a man had surged from behind Carmine and had grabbed Tony by his collar to push him back. In that second, Tony heard two guns being pulled out behind him and he knew his partners had reacted as the field agents they were trained to be. If Tony wasn't so pissed at the disrespect of that low graded henchman, he would probably have granted the man some balls. The bodyguard had not even flinched at the two guns pointed his way. The man's face was in Tony's and he looked violent and ready to attack, agents or not. Tony looked up briefly to find Carmine's eyes over the bodyguard's shoulder. The Father had an amused smirk and shrugged, he wasn't going to intervene. Tony smiled too as he reported his attention on the man still creasing his collar. Putting a hand on the one near his neck, he stared straight into the man's eyes and widened his smile in a friendly expression.

"Alexander, I presume. You can stop now, kid."

The bodyguard frowned and seemed confused, he looked behind him at his boss -who nodded- and then back at Tony. Releasing his grip on the very expensive shirt that he had probably ruined, the bodyguard grumbled something and Tony thought he understood a question along the lines "How do you know my name?"

"Now now, Alexander. You protect your Father's back, of course I would know someone as important as you," Antonio answered, tapping the grown man's cheek in the most condescending manner. It only served to confuse the other man more, and he raised his hand to stop Tony's arm from tapping his cheek again. Before he could touch Antonio's wrist though, the agent had suddenly grabbed him by the chin and dug his finger deeper in the man's skin, forcing him to look up and meet his own eyes.

"Touch me again and see how that works out for you."

It was but a murmur, but it froze Alexander for good. Maybe it was the icy tone. Or perhaps the dark glare. Or maybe it was a combination of his whole position, the words and the way they echoed in the air before they hit their target with the force of a bull. Whatever did it, Alexander just walked back and silently fell behind Carmine again, his eyes wide and his face a bit paler than it had been a few seconds before.

His partners had probably not heard Tony, but he heard them walk even closer and so he advanced again to face Carmine and tilted his head.

"What can I do for you on this fine night, Carmine? As you can see, I was about to enjoy a nice dinner with a few friends," he asked effortlessly, elegantly waving his hand on his side to show which friends he was talking about without actually turning to look at them.

"I was in the neighborhood," the older man said, still with the amused and satisfied smile of a man in control. "Actually, I thought you would like to know that I will be in town for a few days."

Tony nodded and felt the movement in his back before he could actually hear or see Tim move.

"McGee, fall back," he said, and although his voice resonated oddly in the night, he could have been offering the man some wine at a party. McGee stopped dead on his tracks.

He didn't need to turn and see the junior Agent's face to know he was frowning and flustered with frustration or perhaps even some pent-up anger. He also knew that McGee would probably struggle to obey his order so he slightly turned his head to his Junior and raised and eyebrow, daring the man to disobey. McGee went still the second he got a look at Tony's eyes. _Good_, Anthony thought as he directed his attention back on the business at hand.

"Abby, why don't you take Ziva and McGee and show them where the restaurant is. I'll be right behind you."

Surprisingly enough, Abby didn't even try to talk back. She just dug claw-like fingers in her two friends' arms and turned on her heels to leave in hurried steps. Tony measured there progression with the echo of Abby's steps in the night and when they were far enough, he looked back at Carmine Achenza. The man was in his usual black coat and had a blood red scarf that reminded Tony of the one he had in the top drawer of his commode. He sighed, now that Abby had seen Carmine's, he should probably just throw his own away. His mind was called back from his mundane thoughts when Carmine slid an arm behind Tony's back and started walking. Antonio followed, lowering his head so that he could hear what the Father was telling him softly.

.

.

As he walked alone to the restaurant he'd been heading to with his friends fifteen minutes earlier, Tony thought about the short discussion he'd just had with Achenza and smiled. Carmine had told him that he would not back off the Munoz deal and that Tony had to chose if he wanted in or if he preferred to let Francesca manage it. He had evoked Freddy Rossi as if the man was nothing of matter, just a distant memory that he would probably forget the next day so unimportant it was. Except Carmine Achenza never forgot, and the casual tone in which the Father talked about Rossi and his family only served to remind Tony that he had to get Freddy the hell out of this state.

All in all, Tony had already known everything Carmine had told him, but he knew that the content of the conversation wasn't really what mattered. Tonight, Carmine had walked into his very carefully separated-from-the-Famiglia world as if he owned it. He'd come in _Tony's_ town, had interrupted an evening with _Tony's_ friends and with his smiles and damn knowing eyes, he had just reminded the younger man who was in control. Just like when they used to play chess and Tony thought he was about to win. He'd call _check_ and Carmine'd look up with his ever-amused eyes and a crooked smile. And without even touching his pieces, he'd say the ending world. Checkmate. The thought made a smile stretch Anthony's lips just as he pushed open the door to the restaurant. He hadn't even been near a chess game in 9 years, and suddenly his hands itched to play.

He found the table his friends were sitting at and was about to let them know he was here when their four phones buzzed at once. Tony glanced at the email he had just received and rolled his eyes as he slid next to Ziva in the booth.

"Abby, what did you do now?" he asked as he picked up a menu and found the name of what he always chose.

"What? You read one email and automatically you think I have something to do with this?" Abby asked in obviously fake indignation.

"_To all NCIS employees_," Ziva started to read out loud, "_we would like to remind you that sharing, selling or even renting interrogations' videos is a Federal crime punishable by the law. Thus you may not offer to '_burn CDs to all those who missed it'," Ziva concluded, stifling a laugh.

Even Abby couldn't hold it as she shrugged and exclaimed "What! It was so cool Tony, I knew everyone would want to see it! And I was going to give all the money to charity, I promise!"

Tony smiled and shook his head before Abby informed him she had already ordered his favorite dish and the food was coming. They were apparently not talking about Carmine's visit, and even McGee seemed okay with it as he was smiling too. Tony made a mental note to ask Abby how the girls had managed to calm him down and what exactly they'd had to promise for him to actually look like he didn't want to talk about the elephant in the room. They were eating and chatting the hours away when Tony's phone buzzed and he saw FBI agent Booth's name pop on the screen of his phone. He excused himself but the others didn't seem to care as they just waved him to answer and get on with it without even interrupting their conversation. Tony noted their obvious change of ways: no questions about Achenza _and_ no sudden silence when someone called him? Hinky.

"Yes, DiNozzo," he said on the phone, putting aside his musings about the weird vibes he got from his team.

"_I'm calling to let you know that the man you apparently hired to play _you_ was waiting for me outside my apartment, and that this is highly creepy," _Seeley Booth immediately said. It made Tony chuckle lightly and Booth went on, "_Seriously Tony, what's with the guy? He didn't even want to tell me his name! I mean, I tried to be polite while I checked the file, but nothing, he barely said that you sent him before he just walked away._"

"What, did you want him to tell you a knock knock joke while you're at it?"

"_Well, no, but that doesn't mean he had to be rude! Didn't even smile when I told him I was going to be a _.."

"Don't say it! Booth, don't say it or I swear-"

"Oh, you're talking to Booth?" Abby exclaimed when she heard her friend say the name on the phone. Tony smiled and nodded.

"Abbs says hello," Tony said on the phone as he tuned out all the frenetical signs his best friend started to make to try and convey a message to pass Booth without actually talking so she wouldn't disrupt the conversation. How logical. "So, did you like my little gift?" He asked when Abby got frustrated and turned her attention to the two other team members to tell them the story of how she had met the FBI Agent.

"_ Oh yes, I did. What did you say the guy did to deserve your wrath again?"_

"I didn't say anything, Seeley, that's the beauty of friendship isn't it? You trust me and don't need explanation," Tony deflected naturally while checking that his friends were still engrossed in their own conversation. He probably should have just got up and walked outside, but he hadn't wanted to give rise to their curiosity.

"_I think that works when you need me to come pick you up half-drunk in the middle of the night, not when you ask me to put a man behind bars,"_ the agent said laughingly, but DiNozzo knew very well that Booth was serious in his worry.

"I'm gonna have to ask you to just trust me on this one. Plus, it's not like the man is a boy scout or something."

"_No, that, he's not. Okay Tony, I'm gonna see what I can do. You said you needed him gone or at least over-cautious for a few months?_"

"Yupe."

"_Than consider it done_."

"I owe you one, Seeley," Tony said sincerely.

"_Yeah, maybe you could repay me by baby-sitting from time to time when-_-"

"Goodbye, fool."

And he hung-up with a smile.

"So here I was, furious because that boy had actually dared touch my ass-" Abby was saying with enthusiasm. She had even moved the flatware on the table to make a representation of something she had apparently told before.

"Did you begin from the concert incident?" Tony asked knowingly.

"She even told us how she hesitated on what to wear that night," Ziva answered before Abby could.

"Well, of course, it was an important night! The concert of the Not-So-Dead-Pineapples !"

"Well, go on," McGee asked, genuinely interested in knowing how the Not-so-dead Pineapples could lead to meeting one of Tony's friends. "You barged in in Tony's apartment, furious, wheeen?"

"Oh yes, I barge in, and what do I see?" Abby resumed as if she'd never stopped, "What great vision greets my still fuming past-self? Tony and another totally hot man, both half naked and all sweaty and dirty and sexy. Seriously, such a vision. I was shocked still for like 10 full seconds before my brain reseted itself and I could start functioning again."

"Yes, and the first thing she says then?" Tony chipped in, "'_I'm so happy to finally meet your life partner, Tony. Such a hot-ass couple you make_'".

McGee literally chocked on what he was drinking, so much so that water actually found a way out of his _nose_ as he coughed his surprise and laughter away. Even Ziva couldn't _not_ laugh at that.

"You thought he was _gay_? Tony? When was that?" Ziva asked the question McGee couldn't voice yet and Abby -while trying to save Tim's life by slapping his back and giving him more water to drink- tried to remember that period.

"I didn't know him very well yet, and it was a very logical explanation for the way he was alway primping himself and for why there was a half-naked man in his kitchen with him," Abby said very scientifically.

"_primping_?" McGee repeated, gasping for air as he was sent in another fit of laughter along with Ziva and even Abby who couldn't resist the contagious giggles of her friends.

"For God's sake woman, we were _not_ half-naked!" Tony cried, trying to hold on to the last shred of his self-esteem.

"And to top it all? They had started _It's a wonderful life_ on the TV!" Abby added when she could breath again.

"Leave _It's a wonderful life _alone!" Tony nearly shrieked, and with that he could see his dignity finally slip through his fingers, and he finally surrendered to the general hilarity surrounding him.

.

.

They said goodbye to one another later than they had planned considering it was a school night, and Tony found himself turning the key to his apartment at around 2350 hours. To tell the truth, he was exhausted and had been all day long. He wanted to shower but didn't want to risk it washing the sleepiness away so he decided to just walk to his bed and crash there till morning. As he entered his apartment with half closed eyes, something made him smile.

He could smell her in the room he walked through to get to his bedroom. Entering quietly, he spotted the form of her body lying on the right side of his bed. He always slept on the left. He stripped from his clothes into his boxer briefs and slipped under the blanket he had taken out of the cupboard the day before. She turned a bit to find his face, and Tony couldn't _not_ notice that her movement had made her nightgown slide up and reveal a few more inches of her thigh, her right leg being over the cover. Her skin had a silver glow to it in the light of the few moonbeams peaking through the curtains. Smooth silver.

"Carmine is in town," Elena said softly and perhaps even sleepily when he finally stopped moving.

"I know. You will stay in town as long as he is," he said and it wasn't a question, really, he knew the answer.

She hummed yes and he smiled while shaking his head at how natural the situation felt. His eyelids had finally drooped close when he felt a finger find the palm of his hand and tease him with a quick stroke before pulling away.

"Do you need a key?" he asked, once again knowing the answer. She just chuckled softly because, really, did he think locked doors could ever stop her?

"Goodnight," she whispered instead of an answer.

.

.

"Wake up. Antonio, wake up," a velvety voice called him from his slumber and he obeyed despite wanting nothing more than to stay asleep for the rest of his life. He had had such a restful night and it was so unusual that he thought he could call in sick and just stay in bed for the rest of the day. Except that Gibbs would probably show up and then he'd better really be dying or else .. ah, there was never an easy way. Tony groaned and opened his eyes. The vision that greeted him was not so usual either, and he couldn't help but smile. Elena was so close her nose was nearly touching his. She was looking at him straight in the eyes and she had both her hands on either sides of his face. He could feel that their lower bodies were touching and though he liked to have some elbow space when in bed (cuddly, sticky women were the worst) the fact that their legs had somehow ended up entwined didn't bother him.

"You have to let me go now," she said, and his brains took a few seconds to understand what she was asking from him. He hadn't realized that sometime during the night he had apparently reached out for her body with one arm and had possessively brought her against him. His arm was still around the small of her back, holding her captive. She had turned in the embrace to face him, and now she slid her arms around her neck and started idly stroking his hair.

"My bed, my rules," he answered and tightened his hold on her, pressing her to him some more. She raised and eyebrow and smiled crookedly.

"Are you trying to seduce me, by any chance?" She asked teasingly, and he laughed, because for them, this question made no sense at all. How could anyone of them could try to seduce the other? They _were_ seduction. Better yet, they were the pulp of seduction squeezed into a juice of concentrate temptation, allurement and arousal.

Deciding she wasn't the only one that knew how to use her hands, he matched each of her strokes with ones to her back. Her nightgown was silk but the tip of his fingers itched to touch real, warm skin that something -experience- told him was even smoother. Tracing arabesques on her body he started a slowly descending movement, running his fingers down her back. He traveled down the smooth curve of her hip and let his hands cherish it before falling down the glorious path that was her thigh. He soon fell the so wanted skin and froze for a second, wanting to catch her eyes first. Those eyes were full of words she'd never tell and he couldn't afford to hear. She looked at him and smiled before bringing a hand to his chest. He slid his hand under her knee and in a sudden but smooth movement that contrasted with the heaviness of what he'd been doing, brought her knee up to his hip. She immediately wrapped her leg around his lower body and he could nearly hear her heart go faster. His breaths were getting more shallow and a ghostly hand had decided to grab his insides in trepidation. Tony knew there was only one thing to do for the imaginary hand to _release_ its clasp.

In one swift movement he had her pinned under his body, his weight supported by one of his arms on the pillow next to her, the other hand against the wall over their heads. Elena didn't miss a beat as she wrapped her other leg around his middle too. The hand in Tony's stomach clutched tighter. The excitation, the fluttering heart, the sound of short breaths, the sweat, the trepidation. Antonio felt alive.

Then Elena lifted her head from the pillow to reach his lips with hers, and though the kiss lasted only a second and was as light as the peaking sunbeams caressing their skin, a jolt of raw _something_ shot through Tony's whole body. She tasted like the fourth of July. He lowered his head until his lips could touch Elena's chin, then her cheek and her ear -which he bit softly. She locked her hands around his neck and just basked in his attentions for a while before finally taking control again, impatient. The second kiss was not so light. He lowered his whole body on hers, finding that each part of his skin that touched hers sent sparkles flying. The last conscious thought Tony had before surrendering to the passion of the moment was that they were probably going to set the room on fire.

.

And then the alarm clock went off. The shrilling sound of the damn thing couldn't possibly be ignored and Tony pretty much destroyed the device by pulling it out from the table, unplugging it by force from the wall and finally throwing it on the ground. Elena laughed and slipped from under him to switch position. Now riding his body, she claimed the control and he couldn't really complain; his eyes had found the falling straps of her nightgown and he couldn't help but reach out to help the straps in their fall from her shoulders. His hand lingered on the skin over her chest as the falling smooth fabric was about to unveil her -

.

A wailing ringtone interrupted them again, and Tony couldn't help a groan of frustration when he saw that it was _her_ phone ringing. He knew she couldn't possibly ignore the call but his strong hands went to her hips and held her captive anyway. She questioned him with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile but the only answer she got was a feral smirk from him. He was not letting her go. The phone stopped ringing, and she rolled her eyes and laughed at his victorious smile. That is, until the phone wrenched to life again. Elena reached for it, trying not to move from her siting position on Tony's lower stomach but failed and nearly fell off him. His steady hands didn't let her though, his arms were rock hard and all her stealth couldn't help her out of his hold. Then _his_ phone started vibrating on the wooden bedside table on the other side of the bed and he groaned again and frowned.

"Coincidence," he said, and rule #3 be damned, unreachable was good sometimes.

"You don't believe in them."

"I do now. My bed, my rules," he decided as rose from his lying position and slid back on the bed to lean his back against the wall. They were both sitting facing each other, her legs once again crossed behind his back (his new favorite position for her legs to be). She seemed to agree as she forgot all about her phone and turned her attention to his neck instead. The pounding of his heart soon made him tune out the buzzing and ringing of their phones. This was happening now.

.

This time, Elena was the one to actually swear in Italian and groan as the frenetic honking of someone in the street broke the mood _again_. They could've decided it had nothing to do with them, but whoever was honking their horn was doing so insistently.

"Gibbs," Tony sighed and passed a hand through his hair.

"I can go take care of him, I'd be back in less then 10 minutes," Elena whispered in his ear and he had to chuckle at that.

"You're no murderer, Elena," he said in Italian, "But maybe I'll do it myself," he added when someone started pounding on the door of his apartment. "Oh come on!" he yelled in English to whoever was at his door.

Elena let her hand travel down his chest to the waistband of his boxers one last time and sighed wistfully before moving off Tony and rearranging the straps of her gown on his shoulder. It actually hurt Tony to see. Opening the drawer of the bedside table, he took out his Sig Sauer and his phone that had somehow fell down with the vibrations. Now they had managed to piss him off. He took the time to grab and put on a pair of jeans on his way to the door because something in him knew it wouldn't be of _bon ton_ to greet his boss with the throbbing proof of what he'd been up to -even if he was pissed.

The person at his door was still pounding on it, and every new slammed palm or fist gave some more fuel to Tony's growing irritability. He opened the door and barked a "**What?**" before he could even see who it was. And thanks God, it wasn't Gibbs. It was McGee, he seemed nervous and had his phone at his ear.

"Boss, he's here you can tell Ziva to stay in the car," Probie said in the phone before passing his hand on his eyes and shaking his head. Gibbs had probably hung out then because McGee put his phone in his pocket and looked up to Tony with tired eyes. "Why weren't you answering you phone, Tony? We've been trying to call you for 15 minutes."

"Yes, I _know_, I was busy," the SFA replied between clenched teeth. Only then did McProbie realize his partner was apparently annoyed. The younger man frowned.

"Busy doing what exactly? You can't just ignore Gibbs's calls -"

"I know, rule#3, blah blah," Tony said turning around and going back to his room. "These rules are starting to get on my nerves," he added without thinking before he finally asked, "so what's wrong, Probie? Why did our fearless leader decided to wake us up 2hours early?"

"We caught a case. Big one, Ziva was already ready so Gibbs told her to come pick me up while he went to you."

"But I didn't answer so you all ended up coming _a la casa_ DiNozzo, of course," Tony completed curtly before he effectively entered his room and left Tim in the living room.

.

As he threw some clothes on and picked his bag from the floor, he heard Elena in the bathroom talking in Italian. Entering the room to quickly brush his teeth, he found the woman sitting on the edge of the bathtub and talking in the phone she held between her ear and shoulder while trying to put on her tights. Tony washed his mouth, all the while listening distractedly to the one side of the conversation he could hear and smiled when he saw she couldn't manage the phone _and_ the tights. Having finished what he had to do, he kneeled in front of her and put his hands on hers to still them. Elena looked down at him, curious, and he just winked as he pushed away her hands. Slowly, he rolled up the hose, alternating between pulling up each legs until he arrived at the top of her thighs and she had to get up for him to finish. She hadn't looked away. He let his hands linger a second on her hips and she pressed her body against his, absent-mindedly humming "yes"s and "go on"s in Italian on the phone.

"Tony, what are you doing in there, Gibbs is waiting and now even Ducky is here," Ziva's voice called from the living room. Tony rolled his eyes and planted a last kiss on the palm of Elena's free hand before he winked and got out in a hurry.

"What's Ducky doing here?" He asked as if he hadn't just shared an intimate moment with one of the most important members of the Achenza Famiglia .. in his bathroom.

"When you didn't answer, Gibbs had McGee call Ducky in case you were hurt," Ziva answered while scrutinizing Tony's disheveled appearance with suspicious eyes. "Why weren't you answering?" she asked, and when Tony only rolled his eyes while he strapped his SIG to his hip holster, she added "You never break rule#3 unless -"

"I'm tired of hearing about the damn rules," Tony interrupted her, annoyed, before he signaled them he was ready to go. Ziva threw a curious look to McGee, who just shrugged, before she nodded and left the apartment with her two partners on her six.

.

Tony was a few feet away from the three cars parked outside and apparently waiting for him when his phone buzzed in his hands. He could see Gibbs's furiously waiting for an explanation behind the wheel of the black Sedan but he couldn't ignore the call.

"Miss me already?" he asked in a casual voice despite the dark glares he was receiving from his boss.

"_What have you done, Tonio? Carmine is furious. Wait for me, I'm coming down_," was Elena's cryptic answer.

Tony swore as he snapped his phone shut and jogged to the truck into which McGee and Ziva had just got.

"McGee, change of plans, you go ride with the boss. Go first, we're right behind you," he said, opening the passenger door to show his probie it wasn't a suggestion.

He knew it wouldn't be that easy when he heard a car door slam behind him. He winced in anticipation.

"Care to tell me what you're waiting for now, DiNozzo?"

"He's waiting for me, Agent Gibbs," Elena said as she appeared out the doors just in time. Tony rolled his eyes, and they said _he_ loved dramatic entrances. Gibbs neck nearly did a perfect 180 degree turn and Tony winced again because that ought to hurt.

"And you are?" Gibbs asked coldly.

Tony heard other car doors open and close and he turned to see that apparently, everybody wanted a free show. Even Ducky had jumped down his own truck, ordering Palmer to stay inside. Elena elegantly looked at the audience and smiled naturally, apparently only amused by the situation. She was such a diva.

"I'm Elena, of course. Surely Tony told you a lot of things about me, didn't he?" She asked in a low, velvety voice that seemed almost teasing.

"Don't worry about it, Elena, I didn't need to tell him anything for him to know who you are," Tony answered with an amused smile that made Gibbs want to actually punch him.

There was something so wrong in the Tony in front of him. Or maybe not wrong, only changed. Abby had been right. Gibbs had thought she was exaggerating when she'd told them -last morning- that something shifted in the aura of Tony when he was with that woman. Gibbs had already seen it happen in that damn interrogation room the first time Carmine Achenza had entered the Navy Yard. But Leroy Jethro Gibbs had issues with change, in simple words: he didn't like it. And so when he looked up to his agent's easy smile and casual stance and sensed that there was something more behind, something more self-confident and in-charge than he was used to, he wanted to grab his SFA by the collar, throw his ass in the car, and drive him as far away as he could to never see the strange "aura" -as Abby put it- surround him again.

"You've already made us late, DiNozzo," Gibbs curtly said toward his agent before he went back to his car. His look and tone gave no doubts to the nature of that statement. Gibbs was ordering his agent to leave with his team, _now_.

"Sure, Boss," Tony certainly said it in his usual way, but there was something weird with the way it sounded to people around him. As if _that_ Tony shouldn't be heard calling anyone _Boss_. Gibbs tried to ignore the churning of his guts as he slid back behind the wheel.

"Probie, what did I tell you?" Tony added. And once again, he said it in the exact same way he always asked anything from his junior agent, except this time McGee didn't even feel like complaining. He just nodded and went to the Sedan's passenger door.

"Where the hell do you think you're going, McGee?" Gibbs asked when his saw Tim open the door to his car.

The answer came from someone unexpected.

"We have already lost much time, we'd better go quick now and let young Anthony follow us with Ziva once his business here is over," Ducky intervened, talking directly to his old friend as his eyes sent soothing messages to him. Gibbs started the ignition as an answer. Tony didn't wait to see him gone to turn to Elena and walk with her away from prying ears to ask her what was wrong.

.

"What did you do to Munoz?" she asked directly, all trace of the pleased and charming previous act gone.

"Why nothing, Elena, I can't understand why you'd ask," he said in a fake innocent manner that contradicted the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. Booth had been fast, he really did owe him one.

"Munoz has been arrested at his home a little less than half an hour ago. By the FBI," she added, raising a pointed eyebrow.

"You know I'm not exactly the FBI's favorite person in the world right now, they would probably arrest _me_ before arresting someone _for_ me."

"Exactly. Tonio, do you understand what you've done? You've just told Carmine that you'll stick at nothing to do what you want. He will be annoyed he lost a contract but that won't be anything compared to how pleased he will be to see to what extent you'll go for Francesca."

Tony's eyes weren't so light and amused anymore. This was serious and he knew Elena was perfectly right. He knew now, and he had known before he called Booth.

"He'll use it, Antonio. He'll use it to use you."

"I know," the man answered simply, and Elena closed her mouth before she could insist, because she knew him enough to believe him and trust him when he said that he knew something. He was smart enough to understand that Carmine would use this new information to keep Tonio by his side. And if he did understand, than she didn't need to bother. Tonio was a big boy, a more than capable big boy.

.

.

Tony felt the eyes of Ziva as he walked back to the truck and jumped in the passenger seat next to hers. He closed the door and she started the engine without a word.

"She is a beautiful woman," Ziva said after a while, when they were already in the road to Norfolk and Tony was already holding his belt for dear life.

"Can you say that again when you're not trying to kill someone?" Tony said, wincing when they drove insanely close to a woman about to cross the street.

Ziva just rolled her eyes.

"Is it her that Carmine Achenza meant when he came into the bullpen that day?"

Tony had no idea what she was talking about as he was seriously focusing on _not_ having a heart attack every time Ziva drove too close to another car. Some may think he'd be used to her driving ways after all the times he jumped in the passenger seat next to her, but the little thing they called survival instinct made it impossible for him to relax when she was the one behind the wheel. Hah! He should say _that_ next time someone'd ask him if he had a death wish (which people often did, for some reason).

"He saw me and said that I must remind you so much of.. someone. Is it her? Elena?"

"I guess," he grumbled bracing himself when they finally left the smaller streets behind them. She always stepped on the damn accelerator then. He was not in his thinking mood. He wanted to close his eyes and _not _think about anything. Well, maybe he could think of the moment the damn straps fell Elena's shoulder earlier. Yes, that could become his happy place for the time of this little trip.

"Did you think of her the first time you met me?"

That had Tony open his eyes and look at his partner. She didn't look upset but then again, she rarely did. She turned to see him and Tony nearly yelped when he felt the car turning slightly left.

"Eyes on the road, woman!" he cried then, and she smirked. He could've sworn he heard her mumble "kitty" but as he couldn't make any sense of it he shrugged it off.

"You haven't answered my question," she said again, this time pointedly not letting her eyes waver from the road.

"Not directly, no," he finally said, "but later that first week, I think you did or said something that brought me way back," he admitted, because there was no reason to lie. She nodded and seemed thoughtful for a while, Tony wondered what she would make of this and could only pray she wouldn't over-think it as would McGee or Abby.

They arrived at the base not five minutes after Gibbs and way before Palmer and Ducky (Jimmy didn't drive like he had a pregnant wife giving birth in the car), but the team leader still shot dark glares at him when they arrived before barking his order and leaving without another word. Tony sighed, this was going to be a long day.

.

.

The day certainly was a full one. They spent the whole morning on base, working the scene at first and then nosing around, asking questions (some less official than others) and learning more about the life of the victim, Petty Officer Malone. They'd known the case was important before they even entered the scene: it involved drugs, and the Navy took this kinds of things very seriously. PO Malone had actually just reported to his CO that some drugs were circulating in base and was about to give names when -surprise surprise- his body was found in the showers of the athletic field at around 0625 that morning. Tony snickered, Abby would have a full day of fun double-checking every urine sample taken that day (added to the crime scene evidence she'd have to process). Back at the office, Tony felt things getting back in their natural order... at first. Gibbs was engrossed in the case -leaving aside his anger for when he'd have the time to headslap Tony-, McGee was deep in his geeky stuff, Ziva was calling, asking questions, and overall following her instincts and newly gained set of cop skills to find a lead and Tony well.. he was being Tony. He worked, eased the tension when Gibbs looked like he was about to strip one of them from their skin for not having anything new, and then worked some more. It was five in the afternoon when McGee said it:

"What's with Gibbs today?"

Their fearless leader had shot out of the bullpen not thirty seconds before, when Tony had mock self-congratulated himself after exposing a complicated (and probably wrong) theory about the murder. The SFA was still standing in the middle of their little VIP area (that was what he called the bullpen, as no other agents dared to enter the holly space reserved to Gibbs's team without a damn good reason).

"His temper seems even shorter than usual," Ziva added, and Tony had to smile at that.

"You know the boss, he won't be himself before he chew my ass for this morning. Too much steam in his system right now, and not enough coffee."

And there the boss was, coming back from his mysterious wandering in his quick and angry strides. Tony may have played it down for his partners, he knew something was definitely off with his boss and he could feel it was _not_ just about the little stunt he'd pulled that morning. They worked twenty more minutes before Gibbs snapped at McGee again and Tony saw his Probie tense, and this time, not relax. Gibbs had been at it all day, ordering Ziva and more importantly McGee around, snapping at them when he thought they weren't working quickly or efficiently enough. Tony had been the only one to be blissfully ignored. Ziva looked up from her desk without actually raising her head (yes, it was _that_ bad) and sent her mental support to McGee with a slight nod that meant she felt his pain.

"Probie, coffee rounds, your turn," Tony said not stopping what he was doing on his computer. "don't forget my extra milk, extra sugar, and to say hello to Mindy from me," he added as a second thought, he winked at him and went back to work. McGee didn't even hesitate as he jumped out of his chair, took his coat, and jolted toward the elevator. He was getting tired of being pushed around for the day, and if at one point this was his every day life, he had thought that this kind of treatment from his boss had died down when he had found his place on the team. He had forgotten how hard it was to work like that even for 2 hours straight in the confine of the bullpen.

Gibbs watched McGee be swallowed by the elevator and waited a few moment before he swore in his breath and got up again.

" DiNozzo, with me," and like that, Tony was up and on his six ready to follow him anywhere without having to ask. Gibbs couldn't help but think a _that's how it should be_ that he wanted to slap himself for. They entered the elevator and Gibbs didn't bulge when they started going down. He waited for it. Waited. Then it came, the sigh from his Senior Field Agent followed by Tony pushing the stop button. Gibbs turned to him then and waited because even if he had mentally pressed his agent to push the button, those were the unspoken rules of the elevator : you push the button, you talk. Tony shook his head, he understood exactly what Gibbs had done and _this_ annoyed Gibbs all the more.

"You're supposed to be the calm one, boss," Tony said and his voice sure was a bit amused but didn't hide his weariness either. And Gibbs understood him, because that was what they did -he had thought. In their little, perfectly well oiled dysfunctional-but-working duo, Gibbs was the steady as a rock, silent one and Tony was the overly excited, babbling other. Gibbs slapped his palm against the elevator wall in a frustrated gesture, and Tony frowned, obviously surprised by the intensity of Gibbs's actual anger.

"You're shielding McGee away from me now?" Gibbs finally asked, still giving his back to Tony. The other man didn't mind, he was leaning against one wall himself, not really looking at his boss either.

"Why do you add the '_now_'?" the smart-ass snorted, and Gibbs groaned. Of course Gibbs had always know that his SFA always worked to deflect the boss's anger toward him or ease the tension somehow. _That's not specific to him. It's basically in his work description_, Gibbs reasoned with himself. He snorted at how dishonest his was being with himself just for the sake of … of what exactly? What had him so edgy?

"McGee's over the '_let's-give-him-hell-to-toughen-him-up_' stage, Gibbs. He has been for quite some time, so what's with the reverse now?"

And Gibbs wanted to kick something again. Because his Senior Field Agent _knew_ him, Godamnit.

"He has to learn," the team leader answered in a low and calmer-than-he-felt voice.

"He's already come a long way since -"

"It's not enough," Gibbs interrupted harshly.

"He's a good agent and we both know it, what's wrong?" Tony asked bluntly and yet so calmly he could have been asking how the weather was outside.

"He's been slacking off lately. Got complacent," Gibbs said, and it was true in a way. Just not his truth.

"He's still adjusting to his new place in the team _and_ he's getting used to being Vance's favorite. I'd take the time to enjoy it too if I went from _greener than grass_ to _golden boy_ in so little time," Tony said, and Gibbs had to turn and shot him a look at that because they both knew that Tony would _never_ have cared about such a change of status. "I'm not saying there's no adjustment to be done, I'm working on it, give some time to my magic to w-"

"How much time?" Gibbs blurted out then, and this time he caught Tony's eyes and didn't let go. Here, he said it. Well, actually, he'd asked a totally different question from the one he meant, but this was _Tony_ in front of him, so he _knew_ that the younger man had got the message loud and clear. And damn, _this_ was the problem again.

"Ah." Was Tony's only answer. Because _Ah_, meant that indeed, he understood what his boss meant to ask him. It also meant that there was going to be no actual answer to that wrong question.

Something passed in Tony's eyes then, it was fleeting and nearly invisible to the untrained eye, but Gibbs had gotten pro at reading his agent and he could nearly hear the snapping sound of Tony's shields being put back up in his head. An "_Ah_", a look, and Gibbs was locked out of Tony's mind again.

"Don't take it out on them. You're not an unfair man, Gibbs, and you know they're good," Tony said, and this time his tone sounded like someone had just switched a light off somewhere.

"Not good enough," Gibbs repeated as he felt the frustration rise again.

"It's always been enough before and it'll still be long after-" and there was a second's hesitation that made Gibbs look up and stare again. _Long after you're gone?_ Gibbs wanted to ask, but he didn't. "I mean, your standards are high enough to begin with," Tony changed the direction of his sentence, "if you raise them any higher, Abby will need to build you a robot or something," he joked.

The idiot actually dared to make a joke. Damn, only Tony… Gibbs rolled his eyes and Tony's smile softened a bit before he shook his head and insisted.

"I'm serious Gibbs, why now?"

"Because I didn't need it before," he said in that final tone of his that meant this was the end of that conversation. But Tony always liked to push him more.

"And now what, you're afraid we can't handle it anymore?" the younger man asked jokingly.

Gibbs shook his head and headslapped his agent before pushing the adequate button to revive the elevator. "We need to see Abby," he said cryptically. He could have said the naked truth too. But somehow admitting out loud that "now" he had realized that one way or another Tony was going to leave them was not exactly fitting his persona. Instead, he braced himself for what he knew was about to happen. He thought of warning Tony but decided against it. Abby had _not_ been aware that her best friend had received so many job offers when Gibbs had asked her, and she hadn't taken the news quite a silently as her boss the day before.

.

* * *

><p>So, what part did you preferedhated? Carmine's? Elena's? Maybe the elevator scene?

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><p>Important stuff : to those who think this chapter is only slowing down the progression of the story and plot, I perfectly understand but I can assure you that this chapter <em>is<em> important, it has a lot of very small details that, I hope, will make sense to you later. Don't worry though, things are going a lot quicker next chapter if everything goes as planned :)  
>I also must apologize to those who wanted to see McGee's big moment, I really thought I could make it happen in this chapter, but I miscalculated.<p>

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><p><strong>Next chapter<strong> : Some Abby/Gibbs/Tony tension (in the continuation of that little conversation Gibbs and Tony just had). Ducky meets Carmine (I'm eager to see your reactions), and Tony walks deeper into the famiglia's business.


	11. Chapter 11

_Gibbs thought of warning Tony but decided against it. Abby had not been aware that her best friend had received so many job offers when Gibbs had asked her, and she hadn't taken the news quite a silently as her boss the day before. _

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Tony didn't need to be told anything, actually. He felt something was wrong before he even set foot in the lab. Abby had her back to them so he couldn't actually see her face, and nothing looked different than usual, but there was a detail so wrong, so incredibly out of place that Tony's guts immediately clenched. _Sinatra_ was playing in the back. Sinatra. Tony's eyes shot to Gibbs when they entered the room "_What have you done?" _ he asked silently, and he could feel his heart go faster in his chest. He had a bad feeling about this.

Then she turned her head. And her eyes were red and puffy. Every one of his instincts told him to go to her, comfort her and make her smile because the universe wasn't spinning right if Abigail Sciuto wasn't smiling. But he didn't. He didn't because her whole stance showed that somehow, _he_ was the reason she was so upset.

"You sneaky… liar! Did you come down here to _hide_ more things from me?" she attacked when she saw him. And just with that, Tony understood; she wasn't really angry, only so very sad that she didn't know how to really react without falling apart. He braced himself, not even thinking to deny whatever accusation she hold against him. His conscience wasn't so clear that he couldn't think of a thing he'd done wrong. Sadly, there were so many coming to his mind right then that he wondered how Abby hadn't realized earlier that he was indeed a sneaky, not worthy, liar. Something in his chest constricted when he wondered if it was all over. Maybe this whole life of lies was going to end right now. If Abby couldn't accept him by her side anymore, nobody would. He would have to go. His heart pounded inexplicably hard and he was terrified and relieved at the same time. He couldn't lose _Abby_, could he? But life as an impostor was so exhausting sometimes. Living with that sword of damocles hanging over his head. Dreading the day they'd realize he was a cheat. So it had happened then. Would he breathe easier now?

Tony was so deep in thought that he had missed something Abby had said and he wanted to punch himself for it. He couldn't afford not hearing what could be some of the last words Abby would ever say to him.

"It's _your_ fault, _you_ taught him" she was looking at Gibbs now, and _that _was unexpected, and unfair. Gibbs had nothing to do with.. Tony focused on Abby's expression and the depth of the hurt in her eyes as she pointed accusingly to the man she had always worshipped. And here it was, Tony could feel it… the earth under his feet starting to go backward.

Gibbs snorted, and he was cold too, but not to Abby -never to Abby- to something bigger that seemed so out of his hands that he felt helpless. _Helpless_! Yes, _that_ was the feeling he'd tried to hide behind his usual glare all day long. It's been bothering Tony, not being able to put his finger on his boss's unusual expression.

.

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Taught him what? Gibbs wanted to ask. To be so good at his job that even the director that hated his guts chose to offer him four of the best positions he could ever have?

"**You taught him how to leave and abandon us**," Abby added, and for a second there, Gibbs was sure someone had just stabbed him with a dagger made of ice, because something was hurting in his chest, and he felt his insides getting colder and colder. There was such raw ferocity behind the words when she said them. And he thought about Mexico, warm sand and the impression of peace it had held for him at a time. It wasn't worth it. _Nothing_ was worth the betrayed look on Abby's face.

That's when the most unexpected thing happened. One step, and a new shadow casting over him. Gibbs blinked at the broad back he was suddenly facing. _Tony_ had just placed himself between his boss and his best friend. He was _shielding_ Gibbs.

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Tony's face was hard as he forced himself to maintain the mask in front of Abby. She still had her hand in the air from when she was pointing at Gibbs, and now her finger was touching Tony's chest. He raised his hand to take hers and lower it, looking at the woman straight in the eyes. He shook his head ever so slightly, asking her not to do it. _You don't want to say this, Abbs, _he told her with his eyes. He could feel how stiff he was. And he needed to be bigger, broader, taller, to shield every ounce of disappointment, betrayal and hurt Abby was sending Gibbs's way. Because he didn't deserve any of it.

He couldn't let his boss take the fall for something only he was responsible for. He couldn't let her start accusing the people she trusted the most because _one_ of them had betrayed her. And more importantly, no one attacked Gibbs.

The leader's phone interrupted the moment with its usual shrill ringtone. The man answered it immediately and a few grunts and a "on my way" later, he signaled to his SFA to follow him and left the room. Only this time Tony didn't automatically obey. He stayed back, still having some things to say to his friend. He waited long enough for his boss to be out of hearing range before he looked back down at Abby. He was calm as he talked;

"He had the right to leave if he wanted to. He has always been there for us, teaching us, and he certainly didn't owe us any explanation when he decided to go," he paused a second there, to make sure Abby was listening to him, "you know how hard the last case we had before he left hit him. You're not a mean person, Abby, you shouldn't say the only words you know would hurt him just out of anger."

The forensic genius was obviously still upset, but her welling up eyes and her crossed arms told Tony that the sadness was certainly overpowering the anger, and he didn't understand exactly why. What did she hear, what did she realize about him that would make her turn on _Gibbs_? He knew his friend enough to see she couldn't talk in her state, but he could also see that she was still unsettled and there was something in her eyes wanting to disagree, to rebel. Only this was not something Tony would compromise on.

" You've never talked to him like that before, Abby, and you're not starting today."

Abby's eyes widened then, and her face went blank. It wasn't really a question, but she nodded anyway. Little did he know that with that simple sentence, Abby saw something shift in him. Something that gave him such authority that she couldn't say no even if she wanted to.

He smiled then, asked if she had anything for them regarding the case, and went back to business just like that. Abby was a professional too, and she could focus on the case long enough to report everything she found (even if _everything_ wasn't much, in that case). Tony could've sworn he heard the elevator's doors close and for a very awkward moment, he thought it may mean that Gibbs hadn't left earlier. Maybe he had heard everything? But then he remembered that Sinatra was still playing (quite loudly) and that from the elevator, the boss couldn't have understood what they were saying anyway... right? So he focused back on Abby, winked at her when she was done, and jogged out of the lab when his phone buzzed and McGee told him to _"come up __**now**__". _

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Another Marine had been found dead back at the base. He had been absent when they'd been there earlier and thus couldn't be interviewed but as he had been due back in the evening, they had planned on making him come the next morning along with the 6 others that had been away on a training session.

"Grab your gear," Gibbs had said when Tony'd appeared in the bullpen. McGee had picked up his partner's bag and gave it to him so that he didn't even need to leave the elevator.

Once down at the garage, Gibbs threw the keys to Tony and moved his head towards McGee to signal he should go with the SFA. Both agents nodded and jumped in the truck that they had to gas before they could go. As soon as McGee fastened his seatbelt, he let his head down and sighed in relief.

"Whatever you did, thank you," he said before he passed a hand on his face and shook the weariness away.

"What are you talking about?" Tony said, starting the ignition.

"I don't' know what happened while I was gone but when I got back Gibbs seemed way more relaxed. He didn't even snap in those last 10 minutes, a miracle."

Tony snorted, "the day's not over Probie, don't jinx yourself."

"No, I'm serious, he even looked thoughtful. Well, more than usual, that is. Did something happen?"

_Please let it not be that he heard us talk,_ was Tony's only mental answer. He thought about the 'elevator conversation' they'd had earlier and looked sideways at his partner.

"Forget about Gibbs for now. You and I, we have some talking to do."

McGee looked at him, intrigued.

"Are you gonna tell me about-"

"Not about me, McGee, we're gonna talk about you."

That had McGee do a double take and frown.

"Where do you see yourself in five years, McGee?" Tony went on, his eyes fixed on the roads. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and took it out to read the caller id., it was Cynthia's number. Why would Vance's secretary call him? Tony sighed, he could guess what was coming for him. He ignore the call and let the phone fell on his lap.

"Com'on McGee, you're the author, don't tell me you can't even imagine yourself in five little years?"

"I don't know Tony, what is this about?"

"Think, McGee, what will you be doing in 5 years? Will you still be an agent on team Gibbs? Will you ask to transfer out of Washington for a change of scenery? Will you take a desk job if you get tired of the life in the field? Will you try and ask for a promotion? Will you ask Abby to marry you?"

McGee nearly choked on that last part and Tony snorted, letting a little smirk stretch his face.

"I don't know what I'll be doing in five years. There are too many factors to.."

"Of course. Let me make it easier. Let's say I die tomorrow, what will you do next week?"

"_What_? Tony what the hell are you talking about? Is this about Achenza? Did something happen?"

Tony rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"I'm just giving you some _factors_. What will you be doing then, when your team needs you to hold them together and to step up as a Senior Field Agent? Would you do it? Would you keep your head straight, be strong enough to calm Abby's nervous breakdowns, to comfort Ziva when she doesn't realize she needs it, to make sure the Boss is always safe?"

"Of cour-", McGee tried to answer, but Tony wasn't finished.

"Would you be able to see through the politic bullshit and do whatever it takes to have your team's back even when you're _not_ in the field?"

"Tony-"

"Tell me, McGee, do you think you can be the first one to go in and the last to get out everyday?"

"You never do th-"

"Do you think you can forget the pain, the exhaustion and still be the best? Do you have that thing in you that would drive you to walk on the edge every hour of every day just because you _need_ to protect them? Do you think you'll be able to see when things are wrong, when you have to charge in and when you have to give it some space? Are you ready to lose yourself in your team, even though it means they won't even remember what you really look like inside?"

"Tony stop messing with-"

Tony didn't even make a pause in his speech, his hands contracted on the wheel and his face formed a scowl that -even thought it wasn't directed to him- shocked McGee.

"And in the field, McGee? You've been out in the field for quite some time now, right? But do you think it's enough? Do you think _you_ are enough to have their six? To protect _every one_ of them? To have a gun pointed at your head and still choose them over yourself? And what if there are civilians involved? Who would you choose? Would you be able to sacrifice someone you know and love to help a perfect stranger?"

This time Tony turned to him, and his eyes were dark and haunted. McGee's mouth was ajar and he couldn't help the shocked face.

"Answer me, McGee! If someone is pointing a gun to your head," Tony's hand was suddenly forming a gun, and he dug two of his fingers in McGee's temple, "and a gun to Abby's. Would you be able to aim straight and shoot the man holding her straight between the eyes? Or are your hands gonna tremble so much you'll graze her instead?"

McGee felt sick. Tony was talking as if this was going to happen the next day or something. He didn't even move a muscle to get away from Tony's fingers on his head. His heart was beating faster and his eyes couldn't detach themselves from his partner. Who was this man? Tim was so enthralled he couldn't even think of an answer.

"And when they're lying on their hospital bed, McGee?" And McGee could have sworn he heard something break in Tony's voice, "Will you be able to enter the room and _make_ them better? Would you be ready to offer you heart and soul for them, for your job, for the country? Tell me, McGee!"

Tony had ended up slamming his hand on the wheel, and McGee nearly jumped in the car. The younger man's phone started ringing then, but he didn't realize it. His eyes wouldn't leave Tony's face. It was so rare to see his partner's expression so open and eloquent, so intense and so damn imposing all of a sudden.

Then the senior field agent reached for him and McGee thought he was going to hit him or touch him in some way, and still Tim couldn't get his body to move or even blink. As it turned out, Tony was only reaching for his partner's phone, still ringing in his lap. Tony took a look at the caller id. and looked back up at McGee, eyes still dark.

"Your name is not on the Director's door yet, McGee. And until it is, you have to realize that you're _never_ enough."

On those words, Tony answered the call and put the phone to his ear. His body seemed to relax instantly, the hand on the wheel regaining some color, his smile finding a way back to his lips. McGee just stared.

"Yeah Ziva, it's Tony. Okay we'll go directly there with Ducky. Sure, just make sure the boss has his twenty-forth coffee of the day if you don't want him to explode and hurt someone," McGee could guess what Ziva was answering every time with the one side of the conversation he could hear. "Well, yeah, I know there are SEALs there but it's the boss, you don't know what he may do.."

When Ziva hung up, Ducky called to ask for directions because they had arrived but _Palmer_ didn't know where to go. That's when McGee realized that they were there too, and that it's been a 45minutes ride that he hadn't felt. Shock did that to you, he learnt.

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The rest of the day went so normally that McGee started wondering whether he had imagined the whole scene in the car or not. Tony was exactly as usual, he worked seriously, teased Ziva a bit, made an insane amount of movie references at the worst moments possible and was his casual charming self with every pretty face that passed by him. Only the Tony that had showed his head earlier was _not_ so simple. It got McGee thinking. He didn't like that situation. Everything had suddenly exploded with Carmine Achenza showing his face at the Navy Yard. Something itched in the back of his mind as he blamed the mafia leader. Would Tony have never questioned his abilities like he had earlier if Achenza had never been in the picture? Timothy wanted to say yes, after all the Director was congratulating him just the other day and.. the itchy feeling in his chest worsened and he decided to drop the subject for the day: Gibbs was looking at him funny and he didn't want to attract his wrath again. Thinking about his boss's treatment of that morning was also very unsettling. Was this what made Tony talk to him? Was Tony only channeling their boss in his own spectacular way? But then Gibbs had calmed down _after_ talking to Tony, so did that mean that Tony had talked his boss down on _his_ behalf only to "save his ass" and then decided he needed a lecture anyway? _Drop it now, _McGee groaned mentally when he spotted both his partners looking his way with a frown. Tony was getting up to go to Ducky's lab before the older ME went home -it was 2100hours after all- and McGee tried to look casual when his senior field partner threw him a quizzical look.

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Tony sighed as he passed the automatic doors of Ducky's den. He would have to watch McGee closely after the little scene he made earlier. The younger man had been distracted all afternoon and it had nearly made Gibbs lose his temper again. But Tony knew his team, and he was sure his Probie'd understand what he'd been told earlier eventually. Anthony just had to make sure that his junior partner's epiphany happened sooner rather than later.

Ducky was about to greet him when Tony's ringtone disturbed the quiet peace of the lab and the ME waved for his younger friend to answer the call while he took his coat.

"DiNozzo," Tony answered automatically.

"_Antonio, I just left Carmine, and he told me he'd come by later to talk to you. I think it's very important_," Elena's voice filled the receiver.

"I'm not coming home tonight," Tony whispered, turning slightly away to try and leave Ducky out of his conversation. The doctor would probably disapprove his plan to pull an all-nighter when they had next to nothing to work on anyway (Tony thought it was, on the contrary, the very reason he should stay).

"_I'm not asking you or giving my opinion, I'm just the messenger_," Elena answered briefly, and Tony could hear the clapping sounds of steps echoing in an empty street and shallow breathing that meant she was walking rather quickly in the streets, "_he told me he was ready to wait for you in your study. And you know that-_-"

"He can wait all night long and not tire, I know. Well, I'll see what I can do but I'm probably not leaving the office before the sun rises," Tony ended the conversation and closed his phone only to find Ducky patiently waiting just in front of him with his bag on one of the autopsy table. The older man looked very interested by what he was hearing and didn't try to hide it.

"Problem, Anthony?" he politely inquired, obviously hoping Tony would open up and just confide everything in him.

"Don't worry Ducky, nothing I can't manage. Gibbs sent me to ask if you had anything new to give us?"

Ducky looked thoughtful for a few seconds and nodded absent-mindedly before he finally seemed to remember he was supposed to give an answer. Tony frowned, suspicious for a second, then shook the feeling and just accepted his friend's request that they talked while walking together toward the exit.

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Gibbs told them to go home for some R&R and be back at 0700hours sharp. The three agents of team Gibbs took their bags and fled, saying goodnight and chatting on their way down as usual. Gibbs wished he could just close the file on his desk and leave too, but something in him _made_ him stay every time. Sometimes he thought he envied McGee's or other agents' ability to compartmentalize things in their head to be able to go on with their life even when they had two dead bodies in the morgue and had no idea why or who murdered them. But Gibbs couldn't, because their first victim had wanted to make things right and had ended up being killed for his trouble and that didn't sit well with Gibbs. Petty Officers Malone and Santos were marines that put their lives on the field for the country, they didn't deserve to be killed at home and just put in some NCIS freezing drawers, forgotten every evening until the following morning for working hours only. That wasn't how Gibbs worked, and he knew it was probably not healthy. He also knew that his agents were driven too and didn't disrespect the victims whose crime they investigated, but it wasn't the same. Even if he went home, he couldn't close his eyes and sleep before at least the beginning of the idea of a possible lead would come to his mind. Having _nothing_ to go on in a case made his mind and chest heavy and uneasy, and sanding the boat could only help so much.

"I'm not letting you work till 3a.m, Gibbs," came the serious voice of Abby. He had heard the unmistakable clapping noise of her huge heels coming closer and was not surprised to see her face appear. She unconsciously lingered near Tony's desk and stopped there, crossing her arms under her chess. "Not tonight, mister, you are not staying here by yourself."

"Abbs, we have to find a lead."

"That's what your team's here for. You'll go sleep tonight, and tomorrow you'll be rested and have fresher ideas. That's what Tony always says. He says he gets his best ideas when he sleeps."

Gibbs snorted and shook his head.

"I'm not sure you should take your advices from DiNozzo."

"Don't even pretend you find his ideas stupid, Gibbs, we both know he's always the one you turn to when you need more than your usual speculation and theories," Abby said in a disapproving tone and he rolled his eyes, conceding her the point. Looking back down on the file in his desk, he thought Abby would do as usual, take Tony's seat, find something to do on his computer, and just _be_ _there_ as she so often did when Gibbs decided to stay for some extra-hours. But this time was different. How could he think she'd just act normal after everything that had been said earlier and even the day before?

"I want to read it," she whispered then, and Gibbs took the time to take off his glasses and stare at her silently waiting for the rest, "I want to read the file Vance gave you." Her voice was so small and yet he knew she wouldn't back off if he told her no. So he didn't, opening his top desk drawer, he took out said file and let it fall on his desk, watching her carefully as she came closer, staring at it as if it could suddenly wake up, open its mouth and eat her alive. She gulped, lightly slapped her own cheek and took a last look at Gibbs before nodding determined to herself.

"There's nothing extraordinary in there, Abbs. Just offers he turned down."

"And the new one, Gibbs. What if it's a really great one? What if it is Spain, France or.. oh my God, what if it's Cuba? How could _Tony_ reject Cuba?"

"Read it, Abbs," he quietly said. She frowned, intrigued by his sudden encouragement, and took the much dreaded paper file.

There was silence again when she flipped through the first pages quickly, then she froze a moment before she slowly raised her head, face all scrunched up in astonishment and incomprehension.

"Jenny gave him Spain years ago," Gibbs said, knowing what she must have read. She turned some more pages and her eyes were so widely open she looked like a cartoon character. Gibbs averted his gaze, looking back on his desk and sighed softly. "Then Vance offered Souda Bay, Greece. And the Bahrain."

"And.. _SecNav_ recommended him for _Cuba?" _Abby read, still looking abashed.

"Two years ago."

"Maybe he doesn't want to leave the country," Abby mumbled to herself, still reading with the same expression she always wore when dealing with her "computer stuff" or doing tests on evidence.

"That's why they offered him San Diego," Gibbs said, still not looking at her.

She gasped and turned some more pages, looking for that offer.

"Gibbs, those… those are some of the best positions any agents could ever hope for. Leading a team in Cuba, in San Diego? This is big stuff Gibbs. I don't understand, it says he always takes one full day and end up saying no. And .. wait, when did Jenny offer?" She was talking to herself now, going back and forth in the file to try to find answers to the thousands of questions popping in her head. "She gave him Rota when you got back? And he didn't take it? How could he not? We were all so bad to him when he was lead here. McGee and Ziva disapproved everything he did and wouldn't really trust him and.."

"What are you saying, Abby?" Gibbs suddenly asked and she jolted out of her inner thoughts. His eyes were darker than usual and his expression icy. Abby nibbled at her lips and made an awkward face, her eyes those of a doe caught in the headlights.

"I don't think you know all of it, Gibbs, but .. it was really bad. Tony tried to hold us together at first but I only talked about you and I cried a lot" -she winced as she said it- "and McGee was always questioning his authority and Ziva'd remind him he was failing at 'playing you'."

"Jenny said you were doing fine. I _saw _you doing fine."

Abby shook her head nervously, fidgeting with the momentarily forgotten file in her hands. Her eyes were sad and full of remorse.

"Yes, when he stopped trying to force us to get our heads back straight .."

"DiNozzo wouldn't stop trying," Gibbs said fiercely. There were absolutely no doubt in his mind.

"You don't understand.." Abby said, and she seemed at loss of words to explain the situation. She kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other and seemed even more uneasy than when she had arrived in the bullpen.

"Then tell me, Abbs," Gibbs said, pressing her and yet soothing.

"I think he eventually thought that it would be better for the team.. I mean, for us and for our work, if he just.. let himself be whipping-boy and.."

"_What_?" The sound escaping Gibbs's mouth was more a roar than a question, and Abby shook her head frenetically again, realizing what she'd said.

"No, that's not what I meant. It's just.. for a time, he let us all act out and it often fell on him and he kinda made it his role to be the scapegoat every time just to keep the team rolling. I know that's horrible, I _know._ I only realized it later, and it was because I wanted to understand why Ducky was so angry at all of us. I already apologized thousands of time and Tony - he always smiles and shrugs it off, or just denies it. But _I_ know. And when McGee was pissy, Tony would always push his buttons until Tim'd get it off his system. And when Ziva'd start huffing and snorting at everything he said, he'd just give her the perfect opportunity to snap at him and tell him how wrong he was doing everything," Abby was talking so fast Gibbs had trouble understanding everything she told him, but he didn't interrupt, "They thought he was drowning without you and so they had to work harder, and now I think that it was just one of his trick, you know? But even though it had us all going and we still solved cases and stood as a team, how do you think he _felt_? Everyone was so tense then, Gibbs… if it hadn't been for Tony.." Her eyes were welling up now, and her lips trembled. "We were so horrible to him, Gibbs. Why wouldn't he leave when he was given the perfect opportunity?"

"It says he wanted to make sure the team was gonna be okay with me back," was Gibbs's only answer. And his tone was cold and so neutral it couldn't be natural. His statement only served to give more power to what Abby had been babbling about, and she couldn't keep the tears at bay anymore.

"He deserves everyone of those promotions, Gibbs. Everyone of them," Abby said as she approached Gibbs's desk and he pushed his chair on the side of the desk. She sat on his lap and tucked her legs, somehow managing to appear so little and frail when she gripped his shirt. "I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier," she said in her little voice and Gibbs only hugged her to tell her it was okay. "I'm so selfish not to want him to leave us, Gibbs. I should be encouraging him to climb up the ladder, I know, and I should congratulate him but I'm selfishly feeling abandoned instead."

"You can't expect him to stay a second in command all his life, Abbs. He's worth better than that."

"But _you _don't want him gone either!" Abby accused without moving her head from his chest, "I know you were angry all day long! and it's because you're already grieving for when he's gone," she guessed.

Gibbs kept his hands on her head and around her back as he thought of the sudden anger he'd felt every time Tony had done something particularly clever or had showed how capable he was that day. He had always taken it for granted, Tony's sharp instincts, his way to protect his teammates (even from their boss's temper) and still make them roll, how he always seemed to guess what Gibbs would want done next and do it without having to hear it. How Gibbs could actually hold real, deep conversations with him without even opening his mouth. Gibbs and Tony had long been a two-men team before Kate and McGee joined. They'd worked together so well, Gibbs hadn't even felt the need to add a third member to the team before Morrow imposed it as an NCIS new policy. Nine years together. It was more than his three last marriages combined.

"We'll find a way to survive without him," Gibbs said. And he wanted to say it with a smirk and pass it as sarcasm, but the flat tone that got out of his chest seemed to know better. "Knowing DiNozzo he must think he has the weight of the whole agency on his shoulders and can't move on. He obviously needs a reality check and it's time we give him one."

Abby's quiet sobs had eased with his words, and she raised her head a bit, moving slightly away to have a better look at Gibbs's face.

"You're acting so tough now, but who's going to have your back when he's gone? Who's going to have your six everyday?"

At this moment, Gibbs didn't think of all the times Tony had saved his ass on the field somehow. He didn't think of how Tony'd killed two men, dived into freezing cold water only to manage to save both Gibbs and Maddie Taylor from a certain death when they were trapped in the car. No, another picture chose to pop in his head when he heard Abby's question. He remembered the scene at the lab, earlier that very day. How he had actually, physically put himself between his boss and his _best friend_. He remembered Tony's words when the agent thought that his boss had left, and a feeling of loss Gibbs knew all too well spread through his chest.

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"Ah, Miss Sciuto, I thought you were gone for the day! I've just closed your lab," a voice interrupted their quiet moment. It was the old night janitor assigned to the building, Paul, and he was passing by the squad room pushing his cart in front of him. Paul was always very polite and warm toward the younger members of the team, particularly with Palmer and Tony for some unknown reason. Gibbs knew they had done something together in the past, but he had learnt it was a secret Tony was smugly keeping to himself.

"Okay Paul, thanks for the heads up!" Abby said in her usual, jovial manner, smiling at the man without even thinking that her sitting on her boss's lap could be frowned upon by fellow workers. Gibbs didn't fret either, first because he didn't care what anyone would think, and second because Paul was just one of those last and rare good men that were kind enough to worry about their colleagues but not pry or spread rumors against.

"Have you finished closing up everything, Paul? Are you on your way out?" Abby asked, realizing it was already midnight. She liked to chat with the janitor from times to times, he was always thoughtful enough to ask about her health, the nuns or her last hobby and actually listen to her answers and remember.

"Yes, miss. Well, almost anyway. The kid is still downstairs at the gym, but I gave him the key to close the doors when he's finished," Paul said with a shrug while frowning a bit in a disapproving manner. Abby perked up at that.

"What kid? Can you just give keys like that? I would so like to have an extra key to the supply closet next to-"

"Don't get carried away, Miss Sciuto, and you know I'm not allowed to give away keys like that," he said shaking his head, "but the kid is always there so I asked if he could give the authorization, and he did."

At that, Gibbs tensed a bit, shifting in his seat to make Abby get up from him.

"Who are you talking about, Paul?" Abby asked tentatively this time, because she could only think of one _kid_ that would still be there when he _said_ and _acted like_ he was going home.

"Well, Tony of course! I swear he should just bring his bed here and save himself the ride home and back every other morning."

"What is he doing here? where _is _he?"

"Down at the gym for now," Paul checked his watch, "but if I know him like I think, he'll be back up here after his shower in about thirty minutes or so. I swear, that kid! .. always says he gets his best ideas in the shower after a good work out session," the old man shook his head again, "he should start taking better care of himself, sometime I worry he.. ah, never mind, I'm probably just imagining things, I better finish my round now," he concluded cryptically and was gone without saying goodbyes - which was quite uncharacteristic for the amiable man.

Abby was already calling the elevator when Gibbs opened his mouth to tell her he was going to talk to "his damn idiotic senior field agent". She had crossed her hands under her chest to stop fidgeting and when the elevator opened again, she exited it with resolve written all over her face. She stopped dead on her tracks when she arrived in front of the double doors leading to the gym though. Tony was on the far corner and was currently protecting his face with blood red boxing gloves as he faced a heavy bag. Each hook or jab seemed to echo in the gym, and from where they were standing, watching him through the seeing doors, they could hear him mumbling something each time he hit the bag. Abby froze and Gibbs didn't even make a movement toward the door, they just watched as Tony jumped, ducked, and hit as if he was actually fighting someone. He was in his training clothes and was already wet with sweat, hair sticking everywhere and breathing hard. Abby raised her hand on -

"Malone!" they heard Tony exclaim a bit louder than whatever he'd been telling before. Abby stilled. "Malone - gym -Santos - away," Tony resumed, quickening his moves and hitting harder too, "Malone there Santos away. Malone there Santos away," he chanted again as if he would have a revelation if he just kept repeating it out loud. He said it twice more, then again, and his moves were getting more intense too, repeating themselves until Abby could know what was coming next with each new hit. Left Jab, Righ Cross, Left Jab. Kick. Abby didn't realize her heart was pounding faster and her eyes had watered again.

Then, suddenly, Tony broke his dance and stopped at once, letting his arms fall on his side, his eyes locked on the heavy bag. That's when a feral smiled stretched his lips.

"Got'cha" The next uppercut he threw was almost more violent than the whole previous choreography.

Tony walked away to his bag on the floor in the corner and Abby turned to look at Gibbs with her big, watery eyes.

"And who's going to protect _him_?" she whispered.

.

.

Tony's hair were still wet when he shut down his computer and leaned back on his chair, tired but content. His hunch had lead him to find a link between the two victims, and he had already talked to someone at Norfolk to have said _link_ apprehended first thing in the morning, just in case they'd try to slip through before the NCIS agents could be there. At least now they had something to work on in the morning, Tony thought as he got up and started gathering his things. He threw a towel on his head and left the bullpen without a last glance behind him. In the car, his thoughts were already shifting focus from the case to what was probably still waiting for him in his apartment. He knew what was waiting for him. He knew Carmine would be elated to find that Tony had been eager to pull some strings in his _job_ just to deal with things in regards the family. Anyway, whatever Tony could've been thinking on his way home, nothing could've prepared him to what he saw when he arrived. Ducky's much eccentric car was parked next to the black Mercedes Carmine used when out of Baltimore. The driver of the mercedes was leaning against the passenger door, smoking a cigarette and probably ready to wait hours for his boss to finish his business, and it only made Tony hurry more. He swiftly opened his door and could see dim light coming from his study, he made a bee line to the sliding doors leading him there but paused before opening them.

".. of course he's loyal to him. He may even hero-worship him, but that man still doesn't consider him his son. That is something your Agent Gibbs will never be able to offer, whereas my family already thinks of him as our own flesh and blood."

Carmine's voice was clear and Tony could just imagine him leisurely taking a sip from his drink while talking to the old ME facing him. He heard the characteristic sound of a piece being moved on a board and guessed they had found the elegant chess board that was in one of the cupboard of the room. Ducky was actually the one who offered it to him, so the doctor was probably the one that had thought of digging it up. A game between Carmine and Ducky? Tony could have paid to see that. Right at that moment, though, his mind couldn't be farthest away from the game. The words of Carmine seemed to take their time penetrating his mind. As if each letter had alighted on his skin and was slowly seeping into his it so that it could mark him forever. Flesh and blood, something Gibbs could never offer.

"You know Anthony's weakness is his lack of father figure growing up," Ducky calmly stated as another piece was moved, "and you use this information to your advantage. But you are wrong if you think that's our boy's Achilles' heel."

"Everybody has one," Carmine answered with no doubt in his voice, as if he was just reporting a truth that had no relation with what he previously said.

"You think it's just a matter of choice. Not even between your family and NCIS, but between you and Jethro," Ducky guessed.

"Everything in life is a matter of choice, Doctor."

"This, we agree on. And still, I think that you are missing a very important point, Mr. Achenza. And _that _is why you will fail,-"

Tony didn't let Ducky the opportunity to finish his sentence, to explain himself. He opened the door and waltzed in graciously, tilting his head to the two men as if it was the most natural thing in the world that they were all gathered in such fashion. Moving directly to the little -but well stocked- liquor cabinet, he poured himself something simple and strong while Ducky greeted him with all the charming manner the british doctor had mastered over the years. Tony turned back to them and took a few seconds to take the scene in. Carmine and Ducky were sitting one opposite the other in two of the three leather chairs that Tony had on the far corner of the room, the farthest possible from the desk and chairs he had sat on with Elena a few days earlier. Between the two men, a low glass table supported the large and heavy game board Tony had guessed would be there, only they weren't playing chess. They were playing _go_. The newcomer hid his surprise with a small smile, and contained the "of course" he nearly let slip. What better game could they play? The rules were so simple, and yet mastering the game implied calculation and strategy. One had to balance both defensive and offensive purposes, plan ahead and be able to read the game of the other. You could learn a lot about how a man thought just by his way to play go. The Black and white stones were disposed on the board, looking deceptively unpretentious. But the object of the game was to surround and capture the opponents stone, it was a war game. These two men in front of Tony, while sipping their drinks and talking amiably, they were in a merciless battle. How fitting.

"Oh my, look at the time," Ducky exclaimed, and Tony didn't expect anything less from the older man. "I must go if I want to be rested enough tomorrow. I certainly thought you would be home much earlier, Anthony."

Tony just smiled as he gave the ME his coat and hat he had spotted earlier.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Doctor," Carmine tilted his head to bid him goodbye.

Both Ducky and Tony turned to the man still sitting comfortably in front of the board. Achenza had a small smile playing on his lips and his eyes seemed alive, lit by the challenge that his conversation with Ducky must have sparked and the amusement that seemed never to leave his features.

"Ah yes, I suppose this is Adieu," Ducky said softly, looking at the Italian man a last time before he cocked his head and left the room.

At the door, Tony pretended to share pleasantries before he asked "So, Duck, what can I do for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Ducky, you came to my home late at night, so I figured you needed something … urgently."

"Oh yes, I will surely remember in the morning. It is late, and I wouldn't want to keep you up with my trivial problems. We will talk tomorrow."

It was amazing how Ducky could be senile when he wanted to and perfectly alert the next minute. Tony let his old friend go with a magnanimous smile and closed the door after him. The M.E had probably heard him talk to Elena earlier, he must've had understood the Father would be waiting in his apartment and knew Tony wouldn't be home before a few hours. When did Ducky leave the yard again? Two hours before Gibbs let the team go, maybe more, the agent tried to recall. He went back to his study and slid the doors closed behind him. His eyes found the board, and noticed how many stones were already on it. This must have taken hours.

Sitting in the chair previously occupied, Tony took the glass he had left on the table next to the board and leaned back, enjoying the comfort of the leather and letting himself relax.

"Interesting people you work with," Carmine said with a smile in his voice. Tony slowly levelled his stare to the man and tilted his head, observing. His fingers were playing with the glass in his hand distractedly as he stared at the man. Flesh and blood.

"Tell me about the Matteras," Antonio finally said. That brought calm satisfaction in Carmine's features, but not the smug kind that often grated on Tony's nerves. This time, Father was all business.

"You cost me a deal that could have broken them."

"It would have broken your reputation as well."

"My associates will think I am ready to sell them to the FBI, they will lose trust."

"You went to the FBI weeks ago, it was your choice. If your associates don't know about that, rest assured, they won't know who's behind Munoz' arrest. He had enough enemies before he even met you."

"He will try to bring us down with him."

"I'm glad you know that and still wanted to deal with him," Tony said, sneering. Carmine shrugged and waved his hand as if it was useless details.

"I could've controlled Munoz, but the Matteras are getting more and more difficult to restrain. Giving them a bigger playground will only make them more dangerous," Father answered, amusement gone.

Tony nodded seriously and stayed silent a long time. He knew all the big families were wary of the Matteras. The family was an established one and no one could discuss its legitimacy, but since the death of their Don more than fifteen years earlier, everything had changed. Their leaders seemed more impulsive and thoughtless, they were involved in low-grad businesses that the Achenzas wouldn't even consider and they were getting bolder and more violent. They were kids playing with money and guns when lives depended on them. And it was time someone stopped them.

"Well, we'll just have to bring them down now, won't we?" Tonio said pleasantly.

"We are not involving the police in this. This is not Munoz and his little worthless gang. The Matteras have influence. Families depend on their prosperity. They have been controlling and protecting their area for decades," Carmine said with steel in his voice. "They may have broken the code and everything their fathers have worked for today, but we will not do the same."

Tonio just smiled.

"Who said anything about the police?"

Carmine narrowed his eyes, and Tony leaned forward to reach the board still in between them. Taking a black stone, he placed it in one of the center positions of the board. He looked up then, and his feral smile and determined eyes met Achenza's intrigued ones.

"You said you and I could do great things? Well then, Father, It's time we began."

.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

So? What did you think? So many confrontations/conversations! Abby/Gibbs/Tony, then Tony/Abby, then Tony/McGee, and Abby/Gibbs, even some Ducky/Carmine! And of course, Antonio/Father :) I hope you don't think there was suddenly to much dialogue or something.  
>Please, let me know what you likedhated/found funny or annoying! I love to hear from you.

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**Next chaper: **Some Bang! Bang! Action, more about Tony&the Matteras, and more about the new offer of Vance

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Ah, if you have no idea what the _go_ game is, I tried to explain a bit, but do look it up on google, it's a great strategy game that can take days. It also reccomend a book by Shan Sa, **The Girl Who Played Go**, it is just absolutely marvelous.


	12. Chapter 12

Not as many things going on in this one as it's pretty short, but I have bee experiencing some.. inspiration issues with the story and can't stand what I wrote next so I cannot really give you more right now.

..

**Chap 12**

Gibbs was sanding in his basement when he should've been sleeping. It was 0500 hours and he had slept less than 2 hours, but his mind wouldn't shut up long enough for him to rest more. He thought of the previous night and how he had learnt that his senior field agent often stayed at night to work on the cases they had. He'd known Tony sometimes came back when he had a sudden idea or when he had left too much paperwork for the morrow, but to learn that he often _lied_ about leaving only to come back up after Gibbs had left to work some more.. that made the team leader want to headslap himself for not noticing. Gibbs's thoughts were grim and tumultuous, yet pride was safely anchored in the tempest of his mind, and he couldn't help but smile a bit. A few hours ago, he was swearing he was the only agent that couldn't shut the work out of his private life and go home at the end of the day without feeling restless and frustrated. Now it appeared his very own second in command was pretty much the same. Why would Tony pretend to go home then? Why not just stay at his desk when the others left and work with Gibbs a few more hours? The team leader snorted, he'd never let his agent stay the night when they weren't on a hot case, Tony must've known his boss would order him home at some point. Plus, Gibbs had no doubt the exercise on the mat was cathartic and much needed for Tony. Images of his agent hitting and ducking popped in his mind. Tony had been so totally focused on the case and on his training that he hadn't even noticed Abby and his boss peering through the seeing doors and then the noise Abby made when she stumbled and nearly fell over her own feet (then again, those heels of hers were just accidents waiting to happen). Gibbs shook his head and put the tools his was using on the table, picked up his empty coffee cup and climbed up the stairs, still thinking. He knew Tony was not exactly like Ziva or McGee. They were all great agents, no doubt, but Tony had always had something more. _The thing_ that had made Gibbs want to slap Tony's previous colleagues in Baltimore because _they_ couldn't see _it._ The only time he had talked about it was to Ducky, one of the first times Tony had annoyed him so much he'd stormed into the M.E's lab to vent and the doc had wanted to know everything that had happened to make him so angry. It was the first -but not last- time Gibbs and Ducky had talked about Tony's lack of self-preservation instinct, utter stubbornness, and gift for getting himself in trouble (_ie_. in the hospital). They were a two-men team then, and had to work longer hours and were often exhausted both mentally and physically by the end of their big cases. Gibbs had reluctantly agreed to add someone to their duo not only because it was the new policy (but that, he could've dealt with) but because he'd wanted to cut Tony some slack. The boy was still young and so very driven Gibbs hadn't wanted to break him too soon. He knew it would happen eventually, but something in him had wanted to keep the light alive a little more. "_You like the boy," _had been Ducky's simple explanation. Gibbs snorted again, at the time, he had glared at Ducky and had crossed the lab in a few long strides to leave. Gibbs remembered clearly what his old friend had told him just when he had been about to go through the doors. "_He reminds me of a younger version of yourself,_" he'd said in that thoughtful voice Ducky took when he pretended he was just talking to himself.

The doctor would say that again over the years, and if at first Gibbs had just rolled his eyes, sometimes he'd see something in Tony and wonder if Ducky wasn't right. But then, DiNozzo would always say or do something so incredibly stupid the thought had taken him quite some time to realize that the only reason why Gibbs hadn't seen the resemblance more quickly was because no, DiNozzo wasn't a younger version of Gibbs himself. He was a _better_ version of him.

Gibbs was about to make another pot of coffee when he spotted a yellow envelope ostensibly waiting for him on the kitchen table. Looking up uselessly to check if anyone was there, he forgot the coffee and took the previously-not-there envelope, opening it swiftly. It was from Tobias, he knew before he even took the pictures out. He also knew that he wouldn't like what he'd see.

They were surveillance pictures, and Gibbs knew he should've been expecting them as he'd asked Fornell to keep him in the loop. They were taken in the street, at nighttime, and they showed Tony and "the Father" talking near a light pole. The younger man had his head lowered as if to hear what the other one was telling him. Gibbs's eyes went directly to Achenza's arm on Tony's back as they seemed to walk. Tony wore a serious face and a little frown that showed he was focused on what he was told. The next picture showed a better view of both men's faces, and on this one Tony seemed amused and Achenza had a small smile lighting his face and giving an uneasy feeling to his facial expression. Gibbs would later understand it was because of his eyes, so dark and conniving. There was a note behind that last picture, and Gibbs threw it on the table as if it burnt his hand, cursing Fornell in his head as he jogged up to his room to get ready for the day.

Maybe Ducky had once thought DiNozzo was like Gibbs, but looking at these photos, at the resemblance in their posture, in their facial expression, even in their clothing style and hair, no one could doubt the two men caught together were a "_Father & his third son"_.

.

.

When Tony entered the squad room that morning, he didn't know that he'd spend the night there with his two partners and his boss nor that the next day they would all go on a road trip leading them 3hours away from home to track down the physical trainer that was their prime suspect and had -of course- decided to disappear when they tried to talk to him. The hunch Tony'd had at the gym two nights before had been a good one, even though they had thought it would lead them nowhere when the next day they'd realized that the only link Tony'd found, the physical trainer of both victims, had been away at the estimated time of death. The rest of their day had been a succession of dead ends and frustration that had only been made worse when the team had been told they had to move their asses because half of their potential witnesses/suspects were to be deployed three days later. Fortunately enough, one of the programs McGee had put in place with the names of everyone they had interrogated had _DING_ed in the middle of the night to show that the trainer -Whitney- had suddenly used his credit card to book a flight for Europe for two hours later. The failed arrest that had followed and the damn skills the man had to slip through their fingers was what laid the whole team on the roads a 0600 hours three days after they caught the case. Everyone was tired and more than a little bit tense when they finally arrived at the little gas station lost in the middle of nowhere where Abby was sure Whitney had used his cellphone less than sixteen minutes ago. They'd been following him by the random calls he'd place from times to times before he'd turn off his phone again for minutes or sometime hours.

"I swear to God, if he isn't there this time, I'm going to hack his flesh-" Ziva grumbled when she got out of the car and opened the trunk. They had done that five times already. They'd gear up in their bulletproof vests and follow the frustratingly long procedure to clear and check every locations they'd been told.

"How would you do that if he _isn't_ there?" McGee smartly replied, stifling a yawn as he got out of the car too. He rubbed his eyes and leant against the hood of the car, waiting for his partner to grab his gear and hand it to him again. They'd done that so many times there was not even an ounce of excitement left by then.

Tony looked at the two and frowned, finding Gibbs's eyes they exchanged their silent worry and Tony nodded.

"Com'on guys, get your head in the game now, -"

"You really think he's in there?" McGee asked, pointing at the gas station they'd parked away from (just in case). The thing looked positively empty and Tony had to admit that there were no signs of anyone having opened that front door they could see in years. Around them, there was nothing but the road and dirt, and the sun was still not high enough for them to clearly see everything.

"How much d'you wanna bet?" Tony asked, getting his own gear form the car and putting it on.

"You already lost last time, Tony," Ziva reminded him, tapping her pocket with a pleased smile.

"Well yeah, but now I want my money back, and I'm sure he's there," Tony casually said while quickly checking his partners were correctly geared up. Gibbs was on the phone with Abby, already asking her to see if the station was on service or not, and if it was, telling her to call to check who was inside. Tony grabbed the last Kevlar vest and walked to Gibbs, the leader saw it and rolled his eyes, but Tony didn't even blink as he handed it to his boss. They entered a mini-staring contest but were interrupted when Tony's phone rung. Gibbs's eyes immediately darkened, and Tony took out his phone and put it to his ears, still handing his boss the protection gear. Gibbs relented at last, and Tony walked away. He could see the stares of his two partners on him as he answered the questions he was asked and gave one or two orders to Alceo, and when he turned to face McGee and Ziva, the two agents didn't even pretend to do something else.

"On the phone _again?_ Can't they survive without you?" McGee asked loud enough for Tony to hear the resentment in the words.

"You barely slept with all the talking," Ziva added.

They were both right, actually, but he didn't answer any of them as he "_hm"_ed et and "_yes"_ed on the phone. The calling had been going on for two days, and though he had managed to keep it discreet, when they were stuck pulling an all-nighter together, he'd had to pass some calls when they were supposed to sleep. It took him most of the night and though he was sure they couldn't have heard him, Ziva was wide awake when he'd come back in the bullpen to resume his little R&R session. She had locked her eyes to his from where she was lying on the ground behind her desk, and when he had ordered her to sleep some more, she had just snorted and gave him her back. The calls had resumed when they were in the car, he had ignored most of them but had returned a few ones when they paused for food or gas. The end result? His team was getting seriously annoyed, and he had slept less than 3 hours in more than two days.

"What do _they_ want anyway?" McGee asked again, curiosity and wariness visible in his tone and stance.

Tony wondered what they'd say if he just blurted out something like "_I'm organizing the biggest mafia take down of the decade, and my men are preparing to take over the other family's business_". Instead, he said :

"None of your business, McGee, and I'd like you to focus your agent's skills on the target in front of you instead."

The tone was a bit of a wakeup call, and though he had wanted to do it smoothly before, to keep them awake and alert just in case their man was really there this time, this method was just as effective and took less time. He winked to soften the words, and McGee frowned but obeyed. When Tony turned, he fell directly on Gibbs's eyes, glaring. "All ready", he said to his boss without missing a beat. Gibbs nodded.

"Abby says the gas station was closed down two years ago, it should be empty," the boss said, "Tony, McGee, in the back, Ziva, with me."

"Well, at least there's no old women to get out this time," Tony heard McGee say to Ziva before they parted ways, the woman chuckled and added: "Seriously, McGee, if I ever cling to my cat like that and refuse to let go, just kill me right away!". Tony knew they were talking about that little mishap that happened the second time they thought they had their suspect, and thought the story could be funny, he didn't smile. His hand itched to slap both his partners on the head, but he restrained himself. Feeling the eyes of Gibbs again on him, he looked up and knew they were thinking the same thing.

"Shut up and focus," was the last thing Gibbs said before Tony and McGee jogged the other way.

Tony didn't like that his partners were not taking this seriously enough. He didn't like the nagging feeling that Ziva wouldn't be watching the boss's back vigilantly enough for Tony to trust her with it. Gibbs would have her six before he even thought of himself, he knew, and that left their leader sitting duck. He wanted to call her and tell her to focus and stop playing. He berated himself, realizing he should've provoked her, told her she was getting soft and losing her Mossad skills. _That_ would have pushed her to straighten and focus. Damn, why hadn't he thought of that? He was tired and lost efficiency, he thought briefly. They had circled the building and McGee and himself were now standing on each side of the back door, guns raised in direction of what was inside.

"McGee, I don't care if you think he's not-"

Tony didn't have the time to complete his whispered sentence, because Gibbs gave the signal, and they pushed open the slightly ajar door to barge in. McGee went left, the SFA chose right, and soon he yelled his "_clear_", hearing Ziva's and Gibbs's same code. Tony was already going to McGee when the younger men signalled his area was clear too. They regrouped in front of the door of the storage room McGee had checked a few minutes later, after Gibbs and Ziva had cleared the room upstairs. Tony heard Ziva sigh and he couldn't deny that the cat-and-mouse game was starting to get on his nerves too. He looked up to Gibbs over McGee's shoulder, ready to ask him what were the orders now, when he saw_**it**_ in the boss's eyes.

.

It was terribly cliché to admit, but at that moment, in Tony's eyes, everything suddenly slowed down. McGee had already opened his mouth, probably to make one of his smart remarks on how useless all this was being, and Ziva was just now noticing whatever Gibbs had already spotted behind Tony. He could see it in the way the tendons of her neck suddenly tensed and her mouth opened a bit to warn them. The sudden alarm in her features were evidence enough that the threat coming from behind him was probably armed, Tony analysed, and he knew he wouldn't have the time to turn and aim. Trusting his boss and Ziva to take care of the threat, he threw his right foot behind McGee's knee, effectively making Tim's legs give in and pushed his chest with his hands, overthrowing his partner to the ground in a swift but violent movement that had the man yelp and on his back before the first shot even rung in the air.

That's when time resumed its usual course, and the following shots were so close they seemed to all go at once. Tony ducked, giving his boss and partner a better view to the man that had apparently come out of the storage room behind him, and reached out for a disoriented McGee's head to keep it down when the man's first reflex had been to try and get back up. In seconds, it was finished. The sound of a body slumping to the dirt behind him had Tony raise his head to Ziva, just to make sure she was okay, and then to his boss. But then Ziva looked down on her own body, and Tony nearly jumped when she touched her hip and looked at Gibbs.

"Thanks God for Kevlar jackets," she said with a smile, and Tony felt air flowing back into his lungs.

"You can let go now, Tony," McGee mumbled from where he was still lying in an awkward and certainly unnatural position. Tony released his hold on the man's shoulders and head but didn't smile his usual, reassuring smile.

"What the hell, I thought you said the storage room was clear," he said instead, dead-serious.

"I know, I didn't see anyone, I'm sorry," McGee said, wincing and massaging his upper, unprotected, chest where Tony had pushed him to make him fall, "I'm sorry, Boss," he repeated, looking at Gibbs this time, still standing behind him.

The answer didn't seem to please Tony, whose eyes only darkened at the tone of the man.

"This is not you getting a name wrong in your freaking report again, McGee," Tony's voice rose, "this is Ziva getting shot! What if she hadn't been wearing the vest? What if one of you got hurt?"

Everyone in the room knew McGee was going to have to be dressed down in due form, but Tony usually let Gibbs do that part and tried to _ease_ the tension afterward. He was the one that cheered McGee _out_ of the self-loathing stage, not the one to twist the knife in the still fresh wound to make a lesson out of each mistake (Gibbs motto, it seemed). And most of all, Tony was _not_ a yeller. But that day, things seemed to go down differently. Gibbs -who was getting Ziva out of her vest to check her side- paused a second to glance at the two men still on the ground. Ziva was silent and grave during his ministrations. She rarely intervened when her partners were reprimanded anyway, seeing as how she had always agreed with Gibbs's teaching method on that point, and thus never tried to stop him when he'd yell at one of his agents after they did something stupid (even when it seemed a bit harsh).

"I said I was sorry, Tony," McGee repeated with more insistence, frowning at his partner's sudden burst of anger. "I get it, I'm lucky she had a bulletproof vest.." He'd known Gibbs would give him hell, but he hadn't even thought that Tony would take a first turn. It was unexpected and most of all, unwanted.

"Do you hear yourself talk, McGee? I thought you were not a damn Probie anymore!" Tony's voice echoed a bit and he seemed to realize his control was slipping because his face went blank in the second. He resumed, his voice lower and calmer, but still dark: "_you_ are not the one that got lucky because of the vest, _she_ is."

"Tony," Gibbs simply said, and when the senior field agent looked at his boss, he felt himself calming down immediately. Passing a hand through his hair, Tony sighed and shook his head.

"Sorry boss, didn't want to steal your line," he said laughingly, all traces of his previous anger gone. "Here Ziva, give me a hand," he added, and Ziva nodded and took his hands. She tried pulling him up once but failed.

"Haha, Tony, what are you, five?" she asked, rolling her eyes despite her smile and pulling again. But Tony still didn't jump up, instead he frowned. Gibbs stepped forward, his face darkening.

"Oh well, damn," Tony said, chuckling nervously at his boss and wincing at the same time. "Guess the DiNozzo luck strikes again," he added, reaching the lower end of the back of his bullet-proof vest. When he looked down at his hand, it was sticky and red.

"Damn it, DiNozzo!"

.

"Wh.. Tony? Tony are you okay?"

Funny how when you _know_ you've been wounded, it suddenly starts hurting like hell. Tony realized he couldn't move without a tearing pain seizing his upper body, and decided it would be best if he just stopped trying. Ziva was already on the phone, calling an ambulance, and though Tony wanted to protest when he heard someone say the word hospital, the damn burning pain and the light-headedness told him he probably had no say in the matter if he wanted to live.

"Don't want to stay here," he said when he felt he could say something without throwing up or wailing in pain. "DC.." he added to make himself clearer.

"You'll go where I tell you to go," Gibbs growled as he tried to keep his agent back straight. Gibbs was on his knees and trying to make Tony lean on him instead of going down, and soon, Tony realized his boss's clothes had become a bloodied mess.

"I really hope you're not wearing the shirt I bought you under that vest, Boss," he said flippantly as he tried to turn his head to check for himself.

"As if you wouldn't have already noticed it if I were," Gibbs snorted. McGee was coming back from his quest to fetch the first aid kit, and when he fell on his knees to help, Gibbs nearly growled.

"What do you think you're doing, McGee? Get the hell out of here, wait for the ambulance or something, and send Ziva in."

"Now, now, Boss, no need to be so harsh with the kid, he didn't know," Tony said casually. He felt so tired right now. He shouldn't have stayed up all night, this wouldn't have happened if he had, he thought. His eyelids were drooping and he had trouble keeping focused enough to defend McGee. He knew the kid was still there somewhere, and he wanted to say something to reassure him but it was suddenly so very hard to articulate his thoughts.

"Yeah? He's a trained agent when he messes up and risks Ziva's life, but when it's yours its okay? I swear, you and your damn-"

"don't-"

Tony wanted to protest, he really did, but then he forgot what he wanted to say. Oh yeah, he remembered;

"-t's hurts so very much."

Wait, that wasn't what he wanted to say, that was what he _felt_. He groaned.

.

The wounded's unusual admission of pain had Gibbs stop for good. He unconsciously tightened his grasp on his agent to keep him from sliding down, and lowered his forehead, pressing it lightly on Tony's now sweaty one.

"I know," he assured more softly, "I know, the ambulance is coming soon."

Gibbs then proceeded to take the vest off his agent, cursing under his breath at the inefficiency of the thing. The effort made Tony grunt a few times and when Gibbs settled back on his knees, securing the wounded man against his chest, he could see how much the simple action had cost him. Tony was grinding his teeth, obviously trying to put a brave face on but couldn't help the wince and the sudden paleness of his skin. Gibbs closed his eyes a second, and images of what had happened replayed themselves on the curtain of his closed lids. Gibbs had _seen_ it when Tony'd understood his boss's features and realized the danger. He had known Tony'd understood because he knew his agent, he could read his raw live reactions. So when Tony consciously chose _not_ to duck, _not_ to turn, _not_ take a shot, and to just protect obvious McGee, Gibbs had _known_ what his agent was doing. He couldn't pretend he understood _why_ he'd done it, what went through Tony's head in that fraction of second when he realized a threat was somewhere behind him. No, he didn't know why or even _how_ his agent had been able to go against all survival instincts to have his partner's back, and he wasn't even sure he wanted to know. But as he opened his eyes and took in the sight of the now quivering man in his arms, he was glad no one could see him. That way, no one could see the depth in his next words. How they were referring to more than the present of their situation. No one would hear the pleading behind the order.

"Stay with me Tony. Just stay with me."

.

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><p>.<p>

I hope you liked it... As I told you, I've been experiencing what they call the writer's block, so I'd rather not add some parts I'm not content with just to make it longer..

Strangely enough, other stories keep popping in my mind. For example, the one shot '**See, now you've made me angry**". It's **dark!Tony**, with either a c**ompetent!Tony** too or a sinfully **bad!Tony**.. **you be the judge** :-) Be sure to check it out while waiting for next chapter, I promise I'm trying hard.


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you all for your support, you make me want to kick this writer's block thingy in the nuts (yes, I imagine it to be a man).

**IMPORTANT:** I posted a few entries on Livejournal about it but let me do it again here: I really need a beta to help me with each chapter before I post them. Now more than ever, because I don't have the time to read myself again and again as I used to to haunt the mistakes and typos down (you probably already noticed).

**Edit**: Thank you **d767468**, for offering me your help and editing this chapter so quickly.

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><p>.<p>

"Stop the pacing, McGee, and just come on in," Tony sighed. He had been patiently waiting for over ten minutes, but his probie still couldn't make up his mind and decide if he wanted to come into his hospital room or leave. After Tony had realized it was the fifth time he glanced at the clock on the wall, he ended up taking things into his own hands. He had expected to welcome an edgy McGee, but when his probie entered the room Tony couldn't help but feel shocked. Hiding it well, he offered his partner to take a seat, if only to prevent him from collapsing. Tony knew McGee had not had a lot of sleep these past few days -none of team Gibbs had- but the shadows under Probie's eyes seemed intent on eating away every ounce of liveliness in Tim's features. The light stubble completing the look only made him look wearier and so much older all of a sudden. He walked in and paced around in a defeated slump as his eyes had something haunted in them. _What the hell?_

"You okay, kiddo?" Tony asked.

That had McGee's head jolting upward and his eyes met Tony's with an unexpected intensity. He shook his head in frustration or anger and passed a hand through his hair in pure DiNozzo fashion. The wounded man stayed silent, observing his junior partner, worried and yet relieved that McGee had not just brushed the _incident_ off as if it was nothing.

"Hey, McG-"

"Don't, Tony. Just don't! I can't take your sympathy toward _me_ right now." Tim's voice cut Tony's attempt at engaging him again.

Tony narrowed his eyes and watched as McGee paced some more before he decided to sit in the chair at the right of his Senior Field partner's bed. He let his head fall into his hands and stayed like that for long seconds before he shook his head and said:

"You know that thing you told me about your partners in their hospital beds? I thought you were exaggerating."

There was bitterness in his voice, and Tony remembered that day in the car, going to Norfolk.

"I wasn't."

"I _know_."

"You feel like shit right now, huh," Tony said, not minding his language. McGee looked up, surprised, and snorted.

"Yeah, you could say that."

"It's easy feeling like that when you got someone shot. If you weren't, you'd be fired on the spot."

Hurt crossed McGee's features as he saw Tony's harsh words come out off his mouth just to kick him in the nuts. He looked back down, ashamed.

"I wouldn't say it _feels_ easy," McGee's voice said, huskier than usual and yet more fragile somehow.

"What _you_ feel _now_ doesn't really count, Tim," Tony's implacable words were delivered softly but McGee nearly jumped out of his seat when he heard his partner use his first name. Shock was written all over his face. Shock and hurt. Then resignation as he passed another hand on his face, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.

"I've done it now, huh? You're abandoning my case." McGee said gloomily, analyzing the unusual first-name calling.

Tony didn't say anything for a moment, scrutinizing Probie's facial expression and body language. The tone of his voice would've made Tony fall on his knees and reassure his friend that no, he would never abandon him- if he didn't believe every word he was about to say.

"What you're feeling now? You should've felt it even _before_ you knew I was hurt. It should be the sentiment looming over you day and night and keeping you on your toes. It should be what crashed into your chest every time you made the most insignificant little mistake because _that_, right there, is what makes you stop repeating them."

Tony paused, letting his probie absorb the heart-felt admission before he resumed:

"But you... you shrugged and said _sorry_ when you realized you hadn't checked the room properly."

McGee's shoulder slumped some more and when his eyes found Tony's again, he looked beaten.

"I get it now. I get what you wanted to tell me the other day. You're right, I'm not enough. I'm not nearly enough."

Tony didn't deny anything. He could see how crushed McGee seemed to be by his little epiphany, but also noticed that he didn't look like he was about to give up either. His frustration was fueling his determination to be better. He had opened his eyes and though what he'd seen had taken him aback, he would try to save it instead of just throwing in the towel. _That _was what made him a good agent, Tony knew. He could've told McGee, bringing him some solace, but he didn't. McGee's ego had been the cause of his complacency, and he had to understand this couldn't happen again.

"I'm fine, getting out of here tomorrow. I don't want to hear you say you're sorry. I want you to _show_ me you got it."

"Wait, tomorrow? Are you _crazy_? Gibbs will never allow this, hell, the doctors won't!"

"I'm not really asking them for their authorization, I'm a big boy."

"Tony this is ridiculous, you were shot in the back. I know the doctors said you were lucky, but it doesn't mean you're okay," McGee insisted, getting back up.

"You know I don't like hospitals," Tony sighed, ready to argue some more.

But McGee was being stubborn, he shook his head and took his phone out, walking to the door in determined strides. "I'm not gonna sit by and just watch you mess with your health, Tony," he said before he left and closed the door behind him.

Huh, well that was rude. The door didn't stay closed very long though, seconds after McGee's over-dramatic storm-off, someone else entered the room.

"Finally, he's gone," Carmine Achenza said as he found the chair McGee had just left and sat elegantly.

"You didn't have to come here, I'll be home tomorrow," Tony answered, already thinking of the mess this would make if Gibbs was to walk in. Tony's mind had already switched gears to deal with Carmine, putting away McGee's little scene for later review. He had learnt to compartmentalize in and for short periods. Working with Gibbs did that to you.

"Home? You were shot in the back," Carmine answered in a grave tone that had Tony mentally roll his eyes.

"I don't like hospitals," the younger man answered, very aware that he was repeating himself.

"I know, that's why I have already made the necessary arrangements, we'll be leaving as soon as -"

"Arrangements?"

"Of course. This is very serious, I have called my own medical team and they'll have everything ready by the time we arrive in Baltimore."

Tony was sincerely, genuinely, flabbergasted. He hid it well as he stayed silently observing the man in front of him. Father was definitely serious, sitting in his usual position, the hand that usually held a book or a glass was now clenched and on his knees. That was unusual, Tony spotted immediately. Scrutinizing his face some more, he could even see the tense lines around the older man's eyes and the stiffness with which he held his neck. Carmine had been worried. About him.

"I'm fine," Antonio said softly, reassuringly.

"If there is _one_ thing I cannot trust you with, son, it's your own health," Carmine answered with a shake of his head that meant his decision was final.

Tony knew enough to see the _man_ behind the authority figure that people called '_The Father_' at that very moment. Carmine Achenza didn't often show that side of him, but Tony knew that it was what had actually _made_ him what he'd become. It was because of his humaneness that he had taken control of the Family. To protect them, their neighbors, and the women with kids that needed someone but were left to fend for themselves. The Achenza Famiglia hadn't gotten so powerful because of its leaders' lust for power and money. They had been chosen by the people surrounding them, pushed by their respect and gratitude. Carmine had taken the lead so many years ago because he had known that around him, nobody else could follow in his older brother's footsteps at his death. It had led him to do bad things in order to be able to be the protector of so many. He became feared as much as respected. It was the only way his enemies would know not to touch his people. Then the Achenzas had needed money to keep their people from the poverty and misery of the streets of Baltimore, and Carmine had become the most dangerous and brilliant businessman of the city. He had been so young then, but had succeeded in expanding what his father and older brother before him had kept a small family which people went to for advice or protection. The limits between good and bad had started to blur then.

And right now, by Anthony DiNozzo's bed, was Carmine Achenza, the _man_ that _cared_. Tony couldn't take his eyes off of him. Inside his chest, something ached. Anger, disappointment at himself and damn resignation, because he _knew_, at that moment, something that he realized he had always known. The very thing that had made him shut his mouth when all those years back his Captain had asked him "_Are you sure you don't have __**anything**__ on Achenza?_".

"Thank you, Father," Antonio simply said.

Carmine nodded and got up, drawing closer to the head of the bed, he took his time assessing him in a visual once-over that looked for traces of pain or discomfort. When he seemed satisfied enough, he looked back up at Tonio and nodded, raising his hand to let it graze the wounded man's forehead in a gentle gesture. Tony didn't move for a few seconds, then quickly looked around him and found the button that served to call the nurses if he needed anything. He did. A few minutes after he pressed it, a young black woman that he had met earlier that day arrived with a happy smile on her lips as she greeted her patient and his visitor.

"Hello, Lydia, I would like you to hold off any more visitors if that's possible. Is there some sort of '_Do not disturb'_ sign you can hang on the doorknob or something?" he teased while giving the woman his best charming smile.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes, "I know you seem to think you can just check in and out of here, Agent DiNozzo, but I assure you that this is not a hotel," she said in a disapproving but amiable tone. Looking at Achenza, who had drawn a chair closer to the bed and was now sitting near Tony, her smile softened and she nodded. "But I'll see what I can do to give you and your father some privacy," she added.

Tony didn't flinch at her words, waving her goodbye when she left before he turned his gaze on the man by his side. Carmine's bright eyes were sparkling with contained delight. Tony couldn't help but smile. They did look very much alike.

"Let's talk about what went on when I was out. I've missed more than 5 hours of updates today," Tony said in his easy-going tone.

Carmine seemed to hesitate for a second, probably wondering whether he should let Tony rest some more before throwing him back into the midst of things. "You haven't missed a lot. But Alfonso has agreed to the meeting. He has sent Alceo back this morning with his answer."

"When?"

"The _when_ isn't a problem. The _where_ might be."

"In his turf, of course," Tony already knew that. Alfonso Mattera would be a fool not to try and make them meet someplace he controlled. After all,Tony was the one that asked they met, it could be a trap for all the Matteras knew.

"We knew that, but Alfonso is choosing to be extra-careful and decided one of his men would pick you up at that diner you like. The location of the meeting will be unknown for us."

Tony leaned his back on the cold wall, rearranged the covers on his bed and smiled appreciatively. Alfonso had some guts, declaring by his choice that he would be in control during their meeting _and_ that he knew Tonio enough to know of his habits down in Baltimore. Carmine seemed to follow his _capo_'s train of thoughts, he nodded.

"We already know that the Matteras' Don is just a tool, his two nephews are the next generation, they will take over and are actually already the ones behind every important decision. It's them you want to know about. Alfonso may be the youngest of the two, but he's crafty."

"We already went over this," Tony reminded though he knew Carmine only wanted him to have every little bit of information he could engraved in his mind.

"And we'll go over it as many times as I deem necessary. I would do it myself-"

"And we _already_ established that this is not your battle. They must not suspect you're in on this anyway," Antonio said, knowing full well Achenza already knew this. "I will talk to Alfonso, and I will make him think I want to betray you."

"He will think you're a FED trying to get both families," Carmine said for the tenth time since Tony had started spinning ideas for his plan. "Listen to me, Antonio, the meeting is this weekend, you will still be weakened, maybe not able to walk-"

"Actually, I already took a nice walk on the roof of the hospital," Tony casually informed with a proud little smile.

Carmine's icy glare had the agent sober up immediately, Father was going to give serious information, and Tony had enough sense to know that everything new the Don could give him could be a life-saver in what was to come. Carmine Achenza wasn't known as the most brilliant Padrino of one of the most perverted cities just because of his bright eyes. His genius in business, his cold-thinking and his strategist's skills were only a few of the things that made him the best. His elegance and charisma were just bonuses that made him a legend in his world.

"I said _listen_ to me," Father repeated, and Tony could feel the aura of the man expanding around him. Their eyes were locked and Achenza was uncharacteristically leaning in, as if trying to physically enter Tony's psyche to share his knowledge. "Alfonso will ask you about your job as a Fed, and your answer will be the key to everything."

Tony nodded seriously, aware that explaining his actual job would be delicate and could make everything collapse like a house of cards.

"This, you already know," Carmine resumed, "now remember my words: if he does _not_ ask about it… then you were made, and you're already dead."

Antonio didn't say anything to that. No self-confident remarks, no eager questions or flippant teasing, nothing. If Carmine said it, then it was true.

"If _you_ bring up the subject, you are dead. If you say the word _betrayal_ when talking about me, you are dead. If you are too brusque and tell them that their Don and I are out-of-date because we're against drugs and arms, you are dead. Even if they think the same. Do you understand me, Antonio? There are very few words that can come out of your mouth and _not_ get you killed -be it on the spot or later- do you think you'll be able to use them and _only_ them?"

"We still have the time to-"

"There is no time, the meeting is to take place Saturday in the evening."

"Yes, and by then, you will have taught me what I need to know. I'm a fast learner."

Carmine seemed to ponder Tony's confident words as he stayed silent and leant back. Tony's eyes didn't waver. Achenza's right hand passed through his hair, momentarily hiding his face, but when he brought it down, his eyes seemed to have a new sparkle in them, and he was smiling that feral smile that made him look invincible. He nodded a single time and so slightly an untrained eye could have missed it, but Tonio had seen the accepted challenge behind the short gesture, and just with that, he knew he wouldn't die that Saturday.

Because Carmine Achenza never lost a challenge.

.

They talked some more, this time in a more collected manner as the urgency brought by doubt had dissolved into a calm certainty of success. This was only the first step of their plan - of Tonio's plan - but it was a major one. Tony carefully but confidently explained how his going back to Baltimore was a bad idea, doctors or no doctors. He couldn't afford attracting more attention from his team and agency, and going not only to Baltimore but into the very home of the city's most feared Don, to recover… that wouldn't escape anyone's notice. Carmine was not happy about it, but accepted the logical explanation, settling on leaving Elena behind with Tony as he himself returned to Baltimore in the afternoon. He couldn't stay away from his local … affairs, more than three or four days, Joseph and Emilio weren't in on what Tony and him were planning and thus couldn't handle the mass of work that was going to be necessary.

More than an hour later, Carmine finally left. Tony sighed and rearranged the pillows he had placed under his back for support. He probably shouldn't have taken that little walk on the roof so soon after the surgery, Tony scolded himself mentally as he winced when he felt the pain diffuse around the wound and through his lower back. He'd been damn lucky the bullet had missed everything important. This wouldn't have been half as fun if he'd been paralyzed from the waist down -or worse. He was considering his options on how to get up to get to the bathroom when a noise coming from outside interrupted his planning.

"What the- what are _you _doing here?" McGee said to someone. Tony could hear the spite in Probie's voice, and that could only mean one thing. Tony knew who Tim must have bumped into.

Damn, this was so not good. He didn't need Father crushing his Probie's last remnants of trust in Tony right then. Yes, Tony knew that McGee had been over-suspicious since the whole Achenza debacle started, but he had managed to keep it under control. After the events of that morning -him getting shot, the mini-dress down and everything- Tony even thought he had convinced Tim of his loyalty to the job, but his progress wasn't solid yet. It hurt to realize he had to work so much on something that he'd have thought was universally known, but seriously, with everything happening, he knew it was inevitable. He just had to make McGee realize that Tony would never voluntarily do something against his team on the field. Tony couldn't help but wince when he realized that he had to add the "on the field" part. Well, he couldn't have it all. He had to make choices.

"I don't believe I owe you any kind of explanation, Agent," Carmine said, unfazed.

Yeah, peeing or no peeing, this time Tony had to get up and stop whatever was about to happen just behind the door of his hospital room. He managed to stumble to said door and open it, but had to stop for breath. Damn, it hadn't been so hard this morning, did he screw something up by walking too soon? He was on crutches -which he handled like a pro- and still felt the tearing in his back. The worst part was that the two men he was looking for weren't as close as he'd thought. Well that was weird, he thought as he tried to calculate the distance to them with his eyes. They were near the nurses' counter just in front of his room, but neither man spotted him. He paused, passed a hand on his now sweaty forehead, and observed the two men. They were facing each other, and McGee -whose face Tony could see better- seemed as focused as if he was about to take his gun and shoot. Damn, Tony sure hoped nobody would do that.

"I don't like you," McGee finally said.

Carmine straightened up, and though Tony could only guess he was giving him a stare down, he knew that tougher men had cowered when on the receiving end of such glares. Tim didn't even blink.

"That's a shame, Agent, especially since I'm pretty sure you don't know me," Carmine said. He was playing with Probie, Tony knew.

"I don't need to know you. You came into his life, unwanted, a virus that contaminates him and everything around," Tim said, his words intensified by his seemingly implacable tone and his disgusted frown. "You dare call him Son but he is _not_ yours in any way. He can't be, actually, because you are nothing more than a cancer. You manage to get into people's heads and you eat them from the inside," he paused then, breathing hard before he finally spit out, "But you can't do that with Tony. Because he is stronger than you are, and he will _not_ be brought down by you."

Tony could only watch and gape. He'd known Probie was on edge that day, and it was probably _not_ a good time to have him meet Carmine, but he would never have thought _that_ would happen.

"I have no intention of bringing him down, Agent," Carmine said in an amused tone that could've unhinged a less patient man, but McGee apparently didn't care.

"You don't understand," Tim took a step forward, "_everything_ you'll do to him can only bring him down, because he's so much higher than you and your little organization will ever be. Your presence in his life is only a momentary disturbance for the balance that he had found with us, and for _that_ I despise you. _You_ cause him to hide things from us, _you_ make him lose focus and _you_ tire him with all the side business you have him do, and for _that_ I hate you."

"And here I thought he was _so_ out of my reach that I couldn't possibly have any influence on him," Father sounded positively entertained.

"That's the thing, Mr. Achenza. You should know that you are terribly wrong if you ever think that your little games are making us doubt him. You may call yourself his Family, but we are his _team_. And he _chose_ us."

"You know my name, Agent, but you obviously don't know who I am," Carmine said in a colder tone.

"Yeah? Well _I_ am Special Agent Tim McGee," Probie said before he started walking away, "that's my name, don't wear it out."

Tony was absolutely stunned when McGee walked to him, seemingly just noticing his presence, and just walked past him and into the room. Raising his head, the SFA found the Father's eyes on him too. Carmine looked surprised by the turn of events, but certainly not angered or even annoyed. The slight quirk on his lips and the raised eyebrows showed more condescending amusement than anything else, but Tony decided it didn't lessen McGee's performance. Carmine tilted his head and walked away, followed by his guard dog, and Tony turned on his crutches and entered his room. Closing the door, he couldn't contain his huge smile.

"_Ooh-rah, _McGee! Damn, I missed you, Probie! Where have you been all these months?" Tony teased while he made his way to the bed. Tim ran to help, taking away one of the crutches and giving his support instead.

"I think I had lost my head somewhere up the Director's ass," Tim grumbled as he positioned his Senior field partner on the bed.

His comment had Tony freeze and stare at him for a second, eyes wide open and something nearing shock displayed all over his face… then he burst out laughing. Tim winced and Tony could've sworn he even blushed a bit. This was his Probie alright. Not the arrogant agent that had made Tony's few months as a leader hell. Not the over confident man that took pride in repeating every praise the director told him, in the bullpen. Not the idiot who, when he made a mistake, just shrugged his shoulders and mumbled an unfelt apology. This was the McGee that Gibbs had asked Tony if he would be a good addition to the team. _This_ was the man they had trained for years and they could give their lives for.

Tony kept his smile firmly on when darker thoughts tried to spoil the moment. Because something, deep down in his chest, between the pride and genuine happiness, was angry. A voice somewhere in his head was roaring, trying to break free and confront McGee. _**Never**__ mess with my business again. _

Before he could quell it down, someone knocked at the door, and immediately after that Director Vance's characteristic toothpick made its appearance. Tony stiffled a groan. What was happening in this hospital? Didn't people know this place was supposed to be for sick people needing some rest? Tony felt like he had never been more active in one day than he had in that room. He didn't even have the time to process everything that happened to him at one moment before something new came and knocked over everything else in his mind, calling for exclusive attention. Maybe this man was like Beetlejuice. Except you only needed to say his name once before he appeared out of nowhere. Tony'd blame it on Probie then.

"Agent McGee, I'd like to have a word with Agent DiNozzo in private," Vance said right away.

That had Tony turning to McGee. He had unconsciously assumed Probie had jumped up in that eager puppy way he always displayed around the Director. Which he hadn't. _Nice self-control, McProbalicious_. Facing a direct order though, Tim couldn't do anything but leave the room, glancing a last time toward his partner.

"I'll be right there," McGee felt the need to add before he closed the door.

Vance had probably noticed his favorite agent's strange behavior because he had a little frown on his face when he turned back to Tony. He shook it off and was all business again when he found the chair that had been McGee's and Achenza's before his and sat as if he owned the place. Tony's guts clenched.

"How are you feeling, DiNozzo?"

"Drugged up and fine, Sir, nice of you to ask."

Leon smiled crookedly, the end of his toothpick still dancing in the air. The director looked back on his lap, and Tony noticed for the first time a folder in the man's hands. How had he missed that?

"You've been avoiding Cynthia's calls these past few days," Vance said casually.

"Ah, it was Cynthia then? I thought that crazy chick I dated a few weeks ago was stalking me again," Tony obviously lied.

Vance accepted the answer with ease, his smile still in place. He was way too confident, Tony observed. Well, the Director always was, but this time the man seemed pretty smug about whatever he was about to say or do.

"Is this the reason the Director of NCIS came all the way down here, Sir?"

"No, DiNozzo, it's not. You know exactly why my secretary was trying to reach you this week, and I admit I was going to insist you take the offer this time, but things changed yesterday and this time I don't have the time to play games with you. I have so many agents on this that I couldn't even wait for you to come back to work."

"Things changed?" Tony asked, intrigued.

"Three days ago I had a good offer for you. One that could have helped solve the mess you're creating for yourself-"

"You mean a position outside DC," Tony said with a small smile.

"Yes, I do. But yesterday a new position opened, and I have to fill it before the end of the month. This kind of positions, Agent DiNozzo, won't be coming quite as often as the other offers you've received."

Rising up just enough for Tony to be able to take the file handed to him, the Director didn't add anything while his agent opened the file and started going through it. He looked up with a betrayed look on his face.

"That's low, Vance," Tony said softly once he had read the job title the director was offering him.

"Hard to turn down this time, isn't it? A team leader position can be ignored, but this is a Major Crime Response Team I'm giving you."

"Don't they have a SFA ready to take over?" Tony's eyes were still on the official papers in his hands as he talked.

"Their SFA was promoted Agent Afloat last month."

"Well that's convenient," the agent mumbled sarcastically.

"I am sure you know what this means. You will have the authorization to pick another agent, whoever you want."

Damn, damn, damn, this was the freaking deal of the century. He wouldn't even have to warm a closed group to him. They wouldn't see him as an impostor that had taken the place that someone else deserved. And evaluating and choosing his own recruit? That was the dream of every newly appointed team leader.

"You're telling me I'd have to train a new probie?"

"They tell me you're good at training," Vance shrugged, and Tony could see his eyes going to the door, probably thinking of McGee. "If you can teach, then you will have to. I don't like to waste my agents' skills when I see them, and NCIS has more and more new agents as green as grass that need to be shown the ropes."

"By me? The old-school cop that can't even break into the FBI's database?" Tony asked ironically, raising an eyebrow as he closed the file in his hands and discarded it on the bed.

Vance accepted the answer for what is was, his crooked smile and now still toothpick not wavering at the hidden accusation.

"Every agent entering this agency has special training in those areas Gibbs and you seem to dislike. We both know what my ideal type of agent is like, but I have _never_ said that instinct, insight and in the field work were secondary."

"Director, please, you'll make me blush," DiNozzo snorted.

"I'm not saying you have them all either," the black man retorted with a smug smile.

"Touché."

Getting up as if he had felt the conversation coming to an end, Vance smoothed imaginary wrinkles from his suit as he made his way to the door.

"One more thing, DiNozzo, this time I am not accepting an answer tomorrow. You will keep both offers until at least the end of next week. And I suggest you talk about this to someone," he added as and afterthought before he left for good.

Something in his parting sentence rung a bell in Tony's head. Wait. Vance'd had the first offer ready for him three days earlier. He had been ready to insist. _Talk about this to someone_? Tony didn't even need to close his eyes to summon the memory of Abby pointing her finger at Gibbs and accusing him of teaching Tony how to _leave_ and _abandon_ her…

"Vance you damn bastard," Tony blurted out to the empty room when realization hit him. "You told them about this," he added, still alone.

Everything made sense now. Gibbs had been so edgy all day long Tuesday. Abby had looked so broken.

_Why now_, he had asked his boss. Why, all of a sudden, he found Ziva and McGee's work lacking. Why he didn't think it was enough anymore. At the time, Tony had only hoped Gibbs wouldn't answer that he had lost his trust in his SFA. And fortunately for Tony's soul, which would have probably been shattered otherwise, Gibbs hadn't. But then, when Tony had found Gibbs's eyes and dived into them, piercing into his mind and soul like he always did, he had found resignation and … loss, but no reason for it. Now he got it.

"_Because I didn't need it before," _he'd said. He hadn't needed more when Tony was still there but if that one man, him, Tony, left- he would. Tony felt something tearing apart in his chest and if his mind wasn't so focused elsewhere, he might have thought he needed to call a nurse. _Jesus, Gibbs, _Tony thought as he let his head fall on the wall behind him and brought a hand to his eyes.

.

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><p><strong>Please, let me know what you think.<strong> Now more than ever, I need all the feedback you can give.

Oh, and how did you like the **McGee/Carmine** I threw in? Told you he'd wake up!


	14. Chapter 14

Hey, everyone. I apologize for the delay, actually, I'm not even offering much right now, usually I would've waited to add something more to the chapter before sending it, but it's already been too long since my last update and I myself hate it when authors take so much time. Please, don't be disappointed.

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"I know I shouldn't have worried, I mean, you _know_ you're not allowed to die and I know that you follow orders, but still. I don't like it when I can't even come visit you. Do you know that the nurse lady told me I looked like I could at least have changed after my rave party? Seriously! I was coming straight from work! And who still goes to rave parties in 2012? I swear, she was lucky I had forgotten my taser because I was really not in the mood. So anyway, they told me I couldn't go in because you were in surgery, then they told me I couldn't see you because you were still resting, then because you were not allowed more than one visitor at a time, and Gibbs was hogging the-"

"Wait, Abbs, stop. Gibbs was here?"

Tony was in the bathroom, changing into the comfortable clothes that Abby had brought him (and that actually hid _all_ his sensitive parts) and listening to his friend ramble in her usual way when his mind bugged on what she said. He quit trying to fix his hair (yes, he'd finished changing five minutes earlier and had since been trying to tame the little pet that had apparently chosen to come live on his head) and opened the door to find Abby on his bed, waiting for him. Her eyes were still red, which was a sure sign that she had been crying (except if she had actually been to a rave, which would be an entirely different explanation to their puffiness).

"Well, of course, Tony, didn't you see him? He told me you were awake and fine when he came back to the yard."

Abby looked at him with a frown and Tony schooled his expression not to reflect it on his own face. But he had _not_ seen Gibbs. There was only a nurse by his side when he'd woken up. He'd spotted two empty coffee cups on the table close to the chairs though, so he'd known his boss had been there at some point. He'd just assumed that Gibbs had been called back to the office for some reason, a team leader couldn't just decide to leave the office for a whole day after his team had killed a suspect. But if Gibbs had left before he was even conscious, how did he know Tony had woken up and was fine? The SFA was about to shrug it off, deciding Gibbs had probably asked a nurse to keep him posted when Abby's eyes lit up as she thought of something else.

"Ah, he even assured me he had seen you walk with his own eyes when I started flipping out because I was afraid you'd be paralyzed or something. By the way, I'm SO glad you're not. I'm so glad you're okay in general. Can I hug you? I realized I didn't hug you enough this week. It's probably partly because you were chasing after a suspect, but it's also because- well, you know, that day in my lab, I was really bad to Gibbs and you, and I was afraid you were angry with me after that and -"

"Abbs, breathe," Tony interrupted Abby when he saw her hand movements getting out of control (and potentially dangerous because of the dog collar she had customized and wore around her wrist). "I'm not angry," he added then, soothing her with his calm tone and his smile.

It was true, he wasn't angry at his friend. But his mind was way too far from her at the moment. Gibbs had seen him walking? A bad feeling spread in Tony's chest as he remembered perfectly what had happened after he woke up. He had assumed his team was back at the Navy Yard closing the case. He'd asked the nurse what time it was, and had realized he'd been out for 5 hours, give or take. Then there was some inner thinking just like he hated. And he hated it for a reason. He'd felt restless and frustrated. He had remembered Ziva's torn bulletproof vest, the mind-numbing fear at the possibility that she was hurt, McGee's shrugged apology and how he had slipped and yelled at probie instead of leaving it to Gibbs. His mind had started wandering back through weeks, months, years, questioning his actions and every decision that had brought him were he was, in a hospital bed. Because he had failed at keeping the team on their toes. He had failed to keep McGee and Ziva on the right track. And had it been one of them being shot, he'd have been crushed. That was what he told McGee about when his probie had come later. He was not _just_ glad it hadn't been one of them, he was terrified at the simple idea that it could have been. And not because of a suspect, but because of his own stupid mistakes. Not thirty minutes after he had woken up, he had started to feel the need to get out of that seemingly smoldering room. He had wanted to _do_ something, but what? He had felt the need to yell and to hit at the anger he felt inside him. Toward himself. Instead he had stayed perfectly still during long minutes that felt like hours. Then his phone had rung. He'd received a text from a girl he had dated and who was still a friend. Nothing important, really, but it made him realize what he needed to do. So he managed to get off his bed, charmed his way around the nurse that had panicked when she'd seen him trying to pull the IV off his arm, and made his way up to the roof. Breathing. Yes, he had needed to breathe. Then he looked through the contacts list of his phone -which he had purposefully brought with him- and found the number he wanted.

"Hey," he'd said.

"Geez, were you blown up again?" had been the answer from the other side of the line. Tony smiled and shook his head, leaning on the guardrail. He could see the whole hospital park from where he was, he had never realized it was that large. Then again, he was generally trying to escape Bethesda rather than taking walks in the gardens. He breathed in the fresh air, pleasing his lungs, and closed his eyes for a second.

"No, I wasn't."

"Huh. Shot then?"

"Yup."

"When?"

"This morning."

"And where did you say you were calling from?"

"My cellphone, of course," Tony deflected. The other man groaned but didn't add anything. Tony smiled again, that man knew when to talk and when to listen. Or at least he was a big enough bullshitter himself to see through Tony's deflection and recognize that it was useless to insist. Was that why Tony had suddenly felt like calling him? It didn't happen a lot. Well, it never had before, actually. Tony straightened as his previous thoughts assailed him again. He began pacing in small circles, not minding the itching in his back. He was probably still under some heavy drugs, he realized. That was maybe why his thoughts were all so jumbled up together and fuzzy. But that certainly didn't explain the heavy feelings weighing on his chest.

"I'm not sure I can do this anymore. It's too hard."

The other man didn't ask what Tony was talking about. He didn't even say a word. Normally, Tony would have taken the time to analyze that silence, wondering if it was because the man on the other end of the line didn't know what to say, didn't care, or was just waiting for him to develop, but this time he didn't even really care.

"They are not ready. Or maybe I'm the one who wasn't ready to be in charge of them. My control's starting to slip, and they notice it. I get frustrated with them. And I can't just snap every time I'm upset!" Tony started talking without even thinking to hold back. _That_ was probably drug induced. His free hand went to his hair while he continued his agitated rambling. "It's not _fair _to them."

"Fair to _them-_" the man started questioning before interrupting himself and sighing. "You bottled it down for years, it was bound to come out eventually."

That had Tony snort, "Oh no, this is _not_ '_it' _coming out," he paused, thinking. "Maybe I took a wrong turn somewhere. Worse, maybe I should've turned but kept going straiiight forward." Tony didn't realize his tone was getting harsher. "I thought they were learning even when I was casual and fun. Maybe I should've been the strict and cold guy. Maybe that would have made them focus. But now they've had the same version of me for 9 years, it wouldn't be fair to just turn everything around. Except that I _can't_ go on like that, thinking I _failed_ them. And worried sick. I'm on my way to getting a damn ulcer, and I'm not sure how much more my body can take. Maybe it's time I just… stopped," Tony sighed -again- and stopped the pacing. _I can't do so many things at once anymore, _he wanted to add but felt tired suddenly, and just shook his head.

"And what would you do then?"

No-nonsense questions and answers. That was probably another reason Tony had called him and no one else. He went back to lean on the guardrail and stayed silent, watching tiny little people walking through the park down where they didn't even realize someone on the roof was having what could be a life changing conversation.

"I have- I have a few _opportunities_."

"You seem thrilled, Junior," the older man said sarcastically. Tony couldn't really explain his hesitation. He was sure said _"opportunities"_ would _not_ be welcomed by his interlocutor.

At that moment, on the roof, Tony didn't know about the two offers Vance would later hit him with. He didn't know of everything that Gibbs and Abby _knowing_ about those job offers implied. He barely thought about his _futur_e with NCIS, actually. But how could he have explained it anyway?

"I shouldn't be there in the first place. The plan was to keep moving. Every two years, it was a good plan," Tony said with something wistful in his voice. This job wasn't supposed to be a long term thing. A flash of _that _night shot through his mind. How he had felt adrenalin pulse through his veins. How he had known, at the very second his old colleague from Peoria had called out his name, that Vince and Freddy were already drawing their guns. How he had been quicker. He always was. He remembered checking for a pulse, his hands getting wet, sticky and warm. How he didn't wait for an ambulance though he knew Vince was not yet dead. He remembered how his Captain and his partner, Bill, had told him to leave and never come back. He remembered shrugging their worries off and reassuring them, telling them he understood and would do it. _Promise me, kid_, Bill had asked him. Tony hadn't actually said the words, but his friend had thought he'd heard them. That's how good Tony was. He remembered being there, sitting behind the Baltimore PD's Captain's desk and listening to every word he said, drawing a quick plan to get Tony the hell out of there. But inside Tony already knew. Even then, as he was physically _there_ with them. This was not over. He had _been_ with the Achenzas. He had actually penetrated their world, and they had grazed his.

Back in the present, Tony didn't really realize his mouth was actually still moving, "Two years here, two years there, until the day they-" He stopped short before he could finish his sentence. What was he doing? He may have gotten _kind of_ close to the man these past few months, but it was certainly not enough to unravel everything. _God_, Tony berated himself, _you know_ _drugs always loosen your tongue, you idiot_.

"Until what?" The man's voice was somber as he asked the question. "You call me to vent, and you don't even do it properly," he huffed after there was no answer.

Tony shook his head and slapped his forehead. _You put yourself in this position, now find a way out, _Tony ordered himself as he tried to regain some sort of control over his erratic thoughts. He managed to change subjects with enough finesse that his almost-admission was soon forgotten. They talked of other, trivial, matters for a while longer and concluded their conversation when a fresh breeze sent shiver down Tony's spine and he realized he was barely clothed. The "Goodbye, son," that ended the call should have been expected but was still not. Tony supposed it was because he was not used to hearing that word that something in him jolted every time.

.

"Tony you should sit down, you're not looking so good and I can't have you faint on my watch," Abby said, bringing him back to the present and to his room, with her.

"What do you mean, I don't look good? Is it the hair? I knew there was something wrong with it, and you didn't bring me my _products_!" He whispered the last words as if it was a secret between them -which it was- that his using hair products was not just a joke Gibbs threw at him from time to time.

Abby smiled and tapped the spot next to her on the bed, motioning him to come sit by her side, "You know I like it when your hair is wild like that. Anyway, you shouldn't worry about how you look, the nurse I talked to when I came back here asked if I was your sister with so much hope in her eyes that I had to tell her that I was just a colleague. Then she blushed, and I'm sure she squealed internally. There's a link between us squealers that make us recognize each other immediately -"

"Which nurse was it?" Tony asked, amused. He was crawling back in bed (he did feel exhausted) and brought Abby with him by placing an arm around her and pulling her up in his movement. They ended up lying side by side, Tony on his back (paradoxically, the position that hurt less) and Abby on her side, facing him, her head on his arm and her hands playing with his OSU sweatshirt.

"I am not telling you until you get better, mister!"

"What? Why?" Tony whined -he really didn't care, and she probably knew it, but she played along anyway.

"Well, I don't want you to go all DiNozzo on her when you can't even stay on your feet more than 10 minutes without passing out. I can't let her break something," Abby tried to be serious but giggled at the end.

"First, DiNozzos don't pass out. Second, please Abbs, stop trying to picture how she could _break_ something in my body, your giggles are very disturbing. And last… who said I needed to be on my feet for this, huh?"

Abby burst out laughing when he wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, and fake slapped him on the head _à la _Gibbs.

"I should be indignant, but I know that you are in fact a true gentleman, Tony, so I will let this one pass," Abby felt she had to explain herself. Tony rolled his eyes at her, as if to ask who she thought she was fooling. When they first started to hang out, after he convinced her that he was _not_, in fact, gay, she became the most efficient _wingman_ he ever had. They went out a lot more often than they did now. It used to make Gibbs crazy, partly because he couldn't actually _forbid_ them to do it seeing as how they were both always fresh and ready to work on Monday mornings, and partly because he just didn't like it when Abby went out to clubs or bars at night. When their Fearless Leader started trusting Tony with her security, he let it go.

They kept talking, idly reminiscing about those days and quietly laughing at forgotten anecdotes that their memories had chosen to hide for their own self-esteem but that the other could remember very well. Abby summarized it quite well when she took a deep breath after Tony finished reminding her about a certain _Stephen_, who worked as a magician in an obscure pub they'd tried a few months after they began to work together.

"We were wild!" she exclaimed, still laughing, "You're sure he tried to pick me up with that bunny out of the hat thing?"

"I'm telling you! It was _not_ a bunny that he was trying to show you in his hat!"

"Oh my God!" Abby was trying very hard not to be too loud -she was not supposed to be there, it was very late and the nurse she had bribed (by telling her she'd pass Tony her phone number) had made her promise to be discreet if she wanted to stay. "That's disgusting," she whispered.

"I can't believe you don't remember it. It was the first time we had to pretend we were a couple," Tony feigned hurt.

"I thought it was that time that ex-gymnast striper climbed on your back directly from the stage she was dancing on, remember? She was acting like your were a horse she was riding!"

"How could I forget her? She was choking me with her legs while her hands tried to unzip my pants, I still don't understand how that was physically possible!"

"Oh yes, about that, I didn't get it either so I practiced, and you just need to be particularly limber," Abby stated matter-of-factly. "Don't worry, I'll show you," she added, patting his chest.

It was getting late and their conversation faded down with their consciousness as they were both progressively falling asleep, fully clothed and with the lights still on. Neither one of them cared.

"'t's funny," Abby's words were slurred and soft, "I think that older nurse likes Gibbs.."

"Hm-hm?" Tony asked, eyes firmly closed. He was already being taken away by the haze leading to Morpheus's arms.

"Yeah," Abby added while she repositioned herself against his side and nested her head on his shoulder. "she was giving me all the right signals when she said something about your father. I like it when people think Gibbs and you are related," she sighed and fell silent.

Tony eyes shot open. He was not so sleepy anymore.

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It was hours later that he heard the door open. Tony didn't move as he was startled awake by the faint sound of footsteps coming closer. He felt the body of his friend tense against his, and knew Abby had woken up too. With the hand that was the closest to her arm, he squeezed her lightly, reassuring her. He heard the intruder stop after they closed the door. Before the footsteps even drew closer, Tony smiled. He knew that perfume. Elena. He opened his eyes, realizing someone had apparently turned off the lights at some point during his and Abby's sleep. He could still make out the shape of her lean body though, and he knew she was probably taking the unexpected scene in. Abby was still feigning sleep by his side, making herself as small as she always did when she snuck up on his hospital beds (which happened more often than his body liked). After a few seconds, Elena advanced anyway. He could sense her more than he could actually see her, but it was just the same. He could _feel_ her expression, the way her eyes caressed his face and went over his body to check for signs of injuries. He smiled, and the moonbeams must have been enough for her to see him move, because she acknowledge his consciousness by putting a finger against his mouth to prevent him from talking. His smile stretched wider, and she let her finger stray from his lips to lightly caress his jaw. Her other hand went through his hair, just once, before she moved away and shook her head softly. She drew back some more, and just when Tony thought she was about to turn around and leave, she found his wrist in the dark and raised his hand. He felt something cold slip into his palm, and instinctively tried to make out the shape of the object she had placed there. Not releasing her light hold on him, she swiftly leaned over him, slowly lowering her head just enough for the end of her long hair to fall around his face, tickling his neck and making a curtain isolating him from the outside world. He could feel the warmth of her skin and breathed her in a last time before she pulled away, leaving without a last glance behind.

Abby waited patiently for a minute to pass before she brusquely got up and found the nearest light switch to turn it on.

"It was Elena," she declared when she found Tony's eyes. He was looking straight at her with a confident calmness that hadn't been there a few hours earlier, when they were laughing and remembering their past. He didn't look upset, but there was something heavy in the way he moved to place an arm behind his head. Abby's eyes caught a glint of something in the movement, and followed Tony's other arm to find it hanging out the bed, palm facing up. There was a silver chain in his hand, knotted around his fingers. Abby's eyes widened when she saw the cross pendant right there, hanging by the chain and dancing in the air above the bed's rails.

"I didn't know you were-"

"I'm not," Tony interrupted her, his face so absolutely composed that Abby couldn't make anything out off it. He didn't seem closed off either, she observed. He just seemed so calm, and his look seemed so deep. She wondered if he was even seeing her, his attention seemed so far beyond.

"But then why would she bring you a cross?" Abby felt she had to whisper for some reason.

"Because she is trying to help me find something," he murmured too, and something in him apparently snapped back to the present situation, because he reached for the switch of the lamp Abby had turned on earlier and suddenly the moon was the only shining eye watching them again.

"What?" the Goth asked, still so lowly that she wasn't sure Tony had heard her. She wasn't sure she wanted him to.

There were long seconds of utter silence then, interrupted only by the sounds of the night. Abby didn't dare breathe nor move from her half sitting position. But after another minute passed, she abandoned, thinking he had not heard her and somewhat relieved. She was shifting position, lying back on the bed to try and go back to sleep, when she heard him.

"Redemption," he said.

And through the heavy darkness surrounding them she spotted the reflection of a moonbeam touch and run along the chain Tony was holding high above his chest. His hand contracted on the chain wrapped around his fist and she saw the glimmer of the pendant shine in the night one last time before it disappeared, and Tony gave her his back.

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Tony woke up with the odor of coffee watering his mouth. He had never cared for the hot beverage, but its strong smell had always brought him some sort of comfort, for some unknown reason. He knew Abby was not by his side anymore, he had felt her leave earlier in the morning, when the sky was still dark. She had to go home and change before work, she had explained. Tony had nodded and though he had tried to take that opportunity to get up and start the day (_i.e._ call the nurses that'd bring him the forms he needed to sign to leave AMA), he had failed miserably and his eyes had drooped until he stopped fighting it and fell asleep.

"I shouldn't have worried about your feeling lonely," Ziva's voice had him open his eyes. "You always find a way to bring company into your room," she added with a smile in her voice.

He rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms, shooing away the last traces of sleep as he slid into a sitting position in the bed. His partner was in the chair all his visitors had used before her, she had a coffee in her hand that she casually sipped from to hide her amusement.

"You know Abbs has a thing for hospitals. Every time one of us is hospitalized, she finds a way to spend the night. I wonder if it's related to her coffin thingy," Tony mused, adopting his perplexed face. Ziva chuckled an rolled her eyes, but then her smiled softened and she shook her head.

"I was not talking about Abby," she said quietly, and, tilting her head on the side, she motioned to the night table next to his bed. Beside a little lamp was the silver chain Elena had brought him during the night. Tony guessed he had dropped it sometime while he slept, and one of the girls had put it back on the table.

"What did our forensic scientist extraordinaire tell you?" Tony asked knowingly.

Ziva took the time to sip from her cup again before she levelled her gaze to him and stared for a few seconds, thoughtful.

"That Elena Filangieri _'creeps her out'_ ," Ziva repeated.

It made the wounded man smile, but she seemed elsewhere, not even blinking.

"Talk to me, Zi," he said in a voice that was asking her something deeper.

"I always do, you know." _I already trust you_, he heard. She had understood him. "I learnt to talk about things here at NCIS. Learnt that bottling everything I felt inside was not healthy, and not necessary when you had people you trusted by your side."

She paused, but Tony knew it wasn't for him to intervene. She still had things to say, and it was rare enough that he didn't want to stop her.

"At first it was hard, and if I ever hurt you because I wouldn't speak to you, I apologize," her attention seemed to focus back on him. "When Gibbs was gone and I was in trouble I should have-"

"Stop right there, Ziva. This is ridiculous. You don't have to apologize for not trusting someone."

"But I _do_-" Ziva tried to interrupt him.

"I know, Ziva. And you know what? You already trusted me _then_. You just didn't realize it yet.

Ziva, who was about to protest some more, stopped before she even said a word and frowned. "Wait, isn't this a little… presumptuous of you?"

"It's not if it's true," he said with a cheeky smile. She acknowledged his answer with a nod, and he resumed, "What got you going down memory lane, Ziva?"

"Who said anything about-" she started denying, but then she found his raised eyebrows, his look so focused on her, a bit worried and yet calm as he patiently waited for her answer. "Abby," she admitted, shrugging. "I don't know what happened to her, but lately she has been talking about a lot of things I thought were left in the past. She alternates between being nostalgic, telling us stories in her own, super-excited way, or just saying everything she regrets having done since she has been with NCIS."

Well, if Tony hadn't been absolutely certain that Vance had tattled about the offer, now he was.

"And it made you think?"

"Not exactly. But yesterday, McGee was in a foul mood and seemed just as thoughtful, and Gibbs was very quiet after he came back from the hospital. And well, you weren't there, so it was _actually_ quiet," she said with a little smile.

"Wait, did you _miss_ me?" Tony asked, losing his seriousness and widening his eyes in a comical way.

"That is absolutely not what I said, Tony," Ziva rolled her eyes.

"Yes but that's what you meant, right?" Tony insisted, wriggling his eyebrows.

"No, actually I wanted to introduce the fact that it was a very boring day after the excitement of the morning."

"Oh, so that's when you started thinking back at how awful you treated me all those years?" Tony teased and Ziva _tssk-ed_.

"No. But that is why, when Abby called me down to tell me of her plan to hack into the FBI database, I said yes."

"Oh, Ziva, you always know how to unravel new twists in the plot," Tony sighed.

"Achenza's file was more difficult to access than Abby expected, so she asked McGee to help after he got back from the hospital."

"And did you three fearless musketeers find anything you liked?"

"We found pictures, reports of stake-outs, even a few videos that Abby downloaded and kept watching every time she had a minute," Ziva said all at once in that neutral tone she used when she wanted to be truthful but not harsh. "I think that may be why Elena Filangieri _creeps her out_, among other things."

"Ah, Elena. Of course."

"And that is when I started thinking."

.

"I know you can read the people you meet, Tony, it's one of the first thing Gibbs told me when I joined your team," she started explaining.

Tony didn't interrupt her though he had no idea Gibbs had ever said or even thought such a thing. He quelled the tearing in his stomach that the thought of Gibbs brought, focusing back on his partner as she seemed intent on opening up.

"But I have been on a lot of missions where I didn't have much information on my targets. _I_ learnt to read a person through their file. And I read hers, Tony. I saw how she protected herself, how she made herself untouchable. I know her type. She doesn't trust anyone. So I wondered how you could be trusting _her_," Ziva took the time to take the coffee cup she had discarded and play with the stained plastic cap.

It was one of these things she had picked up since she had started working with them. Old, Mossad-Assasin Ziva didn't have tics or little habits like that. Now Tony knew she munched on her pen caps when she was frustrated they had no leads on a case. She snapped the rubber elastics on her desk when she was angry or nervous about something. She let her hair down, then tied it back up after a few minutes when she was bored. She always tapped her fingers to the same tune against her desk or thigh, but Tony was still trying to figure out what song it was she had in mind in those moments. He had never seen the '_fingering the coffee cup'_ one until that moment though.

"That's when I realized something. How could you have trusted _me_ when I didn't you?"

She looked up then, and for a second there, Tony thought he recognized the look McGee gave him the day before when he had asked if Tony had abandoned trying to fix him. Before he could put a name on it, the expression had vanished from Ziva's face as she raised her eyebrows, still not looking directly at him, in that way she always did when she was admitting something difficult to her.

"To tell the truth, Tony, I don't think I could have lasted long at NCIS if you hadn't given me that trust."

"You would have lasted at NCIS even if I had never been on that team in the first place," Tony said confidently.

Ziva's head shot up, "My dead body would be lost somewhere in Somalia if you hadn't been on that team," she batted back without an ounce of doubt in her voice.

"You wouldn't have been anywhere near Somalia if I hadn't-"

"Enough, Tony," Ziva interrupted with some of that fierceness Tony had always admired in her. "I didn't come here to imagine where my life would have led me had you not been in it. I don't need you to know it would have been to a much lonelier, cold place than where I am today."

There was no fidgeting or 'avoiding eye-contact' anymore. Ziva was looking straight at him, head held high in that regal way of hers, defying him to say otherwise. Tony bit back his tongue and smiled, waiting a moment before he knew what he had to say.

"You are nothing like Elena, Ziva."

"I think the others are right. I am exactly like her," she said matter-of-factly.

"You drink water, she likes wine," Tony said. It was the first thing that came to his mind when he tried to describe how different both women were. And to him, it actually sounded like a real argument. Apparently not to her. Ziva frowned and tilted her head like she always did when confused, and Tony chuckled softly.

"I'm just telling you, you two are different," he explained, shrugging.

"Because she drinks wine, of course."

Tony shook his head but didn't insist. He could name twenty other things that made them different, but knew he shouldn't. He could tell her that though both women were direct, there was a naivety in Ziva's bluntness, probably because she hadn't been used to behaving naturally in society from her childhood. Elena, on the other hand, had a certain wariness in her frankness. He had also noticed that his partner hid her perfect, lean body behind casual clothes like cargo pants that Elena wouldn't wear to save her life. Such details could seem meaningless, but Tony knew they weren't. Ziva tried to tone down her stealth while dressing in the most practical clothes to be able to use all of her ninja-skills, Elena knew exactly what to wear to impress without even having to talk. She was an important woman in a very hostile business, she knew how to make herself look harmless when she chose to, but most of the time she preferred the other option: showing the world she could be dangerous too. Except she didn't need large pants or comfortable hoodies to do so. A black dress and high heels were sufficient. Because she didn't need to move a finger to be fatale. Tony was even sure she had never been in a fight in her life.

"I must go," Ziva sighed when she looked at the clock on the wall, she got up and walked to Tony, smiling softly as if she was remembering a sweet memory. She raised her hand to rearrange his wild locks, brushing them away from his forehead. "I really wish you would take better care of yourself."

"It's not like I do these things on purpose!"

Ziva pinched her lips, unconvinced, and Tony thought that this too was a huge difference between her and Elena. The latter trusted Tony with his own body, his health and even with his most risky decisions. She trusted that he knew what he was doing. That if he said that he was fine, even though he may be lying at the time, it meant that he really didn't need or want her help. Ziva was different. He knew she trusted his skills too, but strangely enough, she could never just take his word for anything. It was a trait common to all his team, and maybe Tony had done something to deserve their constant skepticism, but not having to repeat eight time that _yes, he was fine!_ was a nice change. Then again, maybe it was because at NCIS, people were just used to him _not_ being in charge and thus thought he always needed help. It was a twisted way to think, but hey, who knew? After all, even Francesca hadn't needed so much reassurances when he had told her that he had been shot but was okay. And he knew she really cared for him, so it wasn't just that she wasn't worried. The Famiglia actually knew that whatever happened to him, he could always take it. He was their _capo_, after all.

.

.

Elena was back two hours later. She had a brown leather bag that Tony knew she had found in the back of his closet, and he really hoped it contained some of his hair products -though he didn't admit it out loud. As she gave him fresh clothes and some of his much needed toiletries, she explained what she had organized for his return. Tony was glad to hear that Alceo had told the boys to take the trip to Washington, and that they would meet later at _The Restaurant_. He had never personally been to the Restaurant, but knew that it was one of those places where a member of the Achenzas could always find a place to hide, a good meal, and protection if they wanted. Other than that, it really was just a restaurant. Then a nurse arrived with a wheelchair and though Tony almost choked on the water he was drinking, he was forced to used it. Hospital policy. Elena seemed amused but was thoughtful enough not to be the one to push the wheelchair when it was time to leave. Instead, she walked next to him, commenting on some of what happened around them from time to time, always in Italian. It made him smile and nod. If she had noticed the silver chain she had given him, worn around his wrist, she didn't say.

Back at his apartment, he didn't even bother switching on the TV or going to his room, he made a bee line to his bathroom and was stripping out of his clothes before Elena had even closed the door to the apartment. She followed him and leant against the door frame of his unusually large bathroom and, arms crossed under her chest, she watched him with a small smile. They kept casually talking as if Tony hadn't struggled with his tee-shirt when he tried to get it off (getting shot had the inconvenience of hurting like hell whenever you moved). Elena didn't move to help, it probably didn't even cross her mind. She had learnt that running to someone's aid as if they were suddenly impotent was probably more insulting than helpful. He'd ask if he needed her. He didn't. Soon, he was in his boxers and turned to face the woman still observing him. He raised and eyebrow and his half smile was both teasing and self-deprecating.

"How hot am I with these bandages, huh?"

Elena didn't say anything but the way she bit her lower lip and suggestively raised her eyebrows were a lot more eloquent. Well, Tony had only been kidding but hey, who was he to complain?

"You know what," he resumed, "I thought that I was strong enough to take a shower all by myself, but it might just be too soon."

"I can help."

Tony's smile only widened when Elena entered the room and closed the door behind her. Sometimes getting shot was not half bad.

.

.

They'd been in the car for more than thirty minutes, Tony reading the files he'd been given about some of Mattera's side businesses and Alceo driving them both to Baltimore. Neither of them had spoken, but Tony could sense that his right hand man had something on his mind. Alceo tightened his hold on the wheel just when Tony glanced at him. His knuckles were already white, but the younger man kept his mouth shut, eyes locked on the road. Tony could practically see tension oozing from the other man.

"I've never known you to keep your mouth shut that long, Peasci," Antonio finally engaged, throwing the file he'd been reading on the dashboard to signal that he was giving that conversation his full attention.

Alceo pinched his lips but didn't say anything.

"If you have something on your mind, Al, you -"

"I'm not okay with this," Alceo snapped, interrupting Tony. He turned to look at the _capo_ for the first time since they'd left Washington, and Tony saw nervousness. "I know that I have no right to say this, but you shouldn't do it. I can't believe I'm driving you to them. And you actually _want_ me to leave you there alone?"

"I know what I'm doing, Al," Tonio reassured.

"At least take me with you, Antonio. I'm supposed to protect you!"

Alceo almost looked angry in his attempt to convince Tony, and when the latter only smiled, he actually slapped the wheel and leant back with frustration, running a hand through his hair then rubbing his face.

"You're a good friend, Alceo," Tony said in Italian, reaching out to the other man and grabbing his neck in a brotherly way he didn't indulge with many. "I will be fine, and I need someone I trust to stay with Francesca while I'm with Mattera. They know we were close and they may try something to get to me if things turn badly," he added.

"Then take Zorzetti," Alceo insisted.

"Febo and the Agnesini brothers are to stay with Carmine for his protection, you know that. Come now, Al, have some faith," Tony added, only half joking.

Alceo immediately stilled and glanced at his _capo_. " I'm sorry Antonio, I didn't mean to doubt you, it's not my business and I shouldn't-"

"Alceo, stop. Don't do this, don't talk to me like the other soldiers. I trust your opinion, brother, you know that."

Tony was pleased to see surprise cross Alceo's features at his calling him brother. It had been a long time, after all. When they first met and Tony was nothing much in the Famiglia, they had stuck together as the new guys and their similar ways had soon raised the first questions about their eventual brotherhood. Though they said they were not related by blood, after a few months in the Famiglia together, they had stopped denying it. When Tony had started climbing the ladder, Alceo had followed, watching his back, and though he followed Tony's orders too, he was one of the few that Tony would seek for advice or talk to on an equal footing. Not that Antonio snubbed the others -he didn't, actually he was very careful to stay close to the little people, gaining their trust, respect and loyalty. The fact that he left for almost a decade kind of ruined that last part, but the fact that Carmine himself and Alceo after him had greeted him back did make most of the other soldiers accept his return.

"I'm just saying, be careful," Alceo sighed. Then he reached for the discarded file and threw it on Tony's lap, "and read the damn info we got you, it could save your life."

Tony chuckled and let go of his friend's neck, re-focusing on the report that could, indeed, prove helpful. The rest of the ride was silent, but comfortably so.

–

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><p>.<p>

Don't worry, there will be mentions of what happens at _"the Restaurant"_, I'm just keeping it for later because Tony and the boys (:) ) discuss details of the plan that I want to keep in the dark right now.

The story is in a phase of transition, because things are going to get messy very soon for Tony, you just wait :)

**Let me know what you think!**


	15. Chapter 15 - His city

**Hi y'all -**

**Thank you all for reading and reviewing, each one of you makes my day and helps me going back to the story even when I'm tired and frustrated with it.**

**Again, thanks to d767468 without whom you'd all be reading silly things like "I have b**_**e**_** been" and "she look **_**as is **_**she".**

**.**

* * *

><p>.<p>

The one thing that Tony didn't expect to see from his usual booth at his favorite diner was Elena sliding in by his side, stealing a sip of his giant milk-shake.

"Missed me already?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You forgot your lunchbox at home and I just couldn't let you go to work without it, honey," she answered without missing a beat.

He smiled that crooked half-smile of his and she answered him with a wink. He hadn't even seen her take something from her purse until she was inconspicuously placing it in his hand. She let her hand linger in his for a moment, as if it was just a natural gesture they shared while they talked.

"Admit it, you're nervous."

"Why would I be?" she asked, playing his game and moving closer. He didn't move further into the booth, instead just putting an arm behind her to let her move closer to his chest.

"Well, your _honey_ is having a big meeting today," he explained, shrugging in a self-confident way. She couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"The day we really start talking like this, I allow you to -"

"Come now, love, you know you like it," he teased and she rolled her eyes again (though she was smiling). "So you came here to wish me luck."

Elena glanced at her watch, which Tony didn't have to do to know that he had little time before his rendezvous with Alfonso Mattera.

"No, Antonio, you don't need luck," she began before she rose up to her feet and took her purse, "not when you can have information instead," she added before she left. Tony turned to see her leave, observing her regal way of walking until she was gone, before he sat back in his booth, leaning on the baby blue cushioned leather of the vintage diner. He took the time to pick up his milkshake and take a sip before looking down to the piece of paper Elena had slid to him. He recognized her writing and quickly read the concise message. Damn, this woman was good. A smile stretched his lips as he crumpled the piece of paper and threw it on the table. It wasn't an amused smile. It wasn't even that cheeky smile he wore to piss off the people that didn't like him. It was just the smile of the man that knew that he had just been handed the victory.

.

Exactly four minutes later, when Tony had finished his milkshake and was starting to get bored, a man in a cheap black suit walked to Tony's table and, without pausing, leant over it to reach for the piece of crumpled paper. Tony slowly turned his head to see the newcomer and recognized one of Alfonso's closest goons from pictures he'd seen. The man didn't give any explanation to the raised eyebrow of Tony. Actually, he didn't even try to read the note he had picked up. Tony just smiled and shrugged innocently before he got up. The man -whose name Tony knew was Mark- didn't say anything as he walked out of the diner, expecting him to follow. Tonio didn't remark how uncouth Mark was being, deciding he was not high enough in the food chain to really matter anyway. An old Mercedes was waiting for them outside, and Tony got in as if he owned it. Mark was right behind him. There were two other men in the car, the driver and another one in the seat next to him, and though both stared for a few seconds, none of them addressed him. Tony didn't bother trying either. He just leant back, closed his eyes and smiled.

"Wake me up when we get there," he ordered.

The next time Tony opened his eyes, the car had stopped and someone was opening the door from outside. The few men that greeted him when he got out showed much more respect to him, lowering their heads and talking politely. Tony didn't even raise his eyes to take in the sight of the large house in front of him. There was nothing but trees and grass around, not a building in sight, and Tony knew they were out of the city.

"Antonio, my friend," Alfonso Mattera said as he appeared at the door of the house, his arms raised in a welcoming gesture. Tony smiled and tilted his head, meeting the man halfway. "Come with me, the day is too bright to stay inside," he added, showing him the way with a hand on his back. They followed a pebble path to garden furniture and comfortably settled there.

"This was my grand father's house. He loved it here. You'd think we were in the middle of nowhere here. The air is pure and the sky is actually blue, not only a shade of grey."

Tony smiled internally, so Alfonzo wanted to play it like that? Wistful, gentle and agreeable when Tony knew very well what a brute the man really was. It was like watching someone trying to emulate Carmine's aura. Except that Carmine would have already made his guest comfortable enough to forget how dangerous he actually was. Oh, and Carmine would have offered fresh squeezed lemonade to drink.

"Your grandfather," Tony said softly, nodding his head as he thought of everything he'd heard about Don Alvise Mattera, "a great man."

"Yes, yes he was. He is the one who taught me everything I know."

From what he'd understood of the Don -which Carmine had known- Tony doubted it. Because Don Alvise was the last Mattera actually following the tradition and principles that the leaders of each family had sworn to protect and serve. The current Don Mattera lacked character and did everything his two nephews wanted, and said nephews were two overgrown teenagers craving power who probably wanted to have a statue of the globe reading "_the world is yours"_ in their hall. Except Tony Montana ended up addicted to drugs and took hundreds of bullets by the end of _Scarface_. Naturally, people tended not to remember that las part when they thought the mafia was so cool. Unfortunately, Benito and Alfonso Mattera were not just two random guys with posters of _cool guns_ they'd never have enough money or guts to buy anyway. They weren't just any boys that watched too many mafia movies, played violent video games and looked up dangerous stuff on Google and YouTube before their mums called them for diner. They were the sons of the current Don Mattera's deceased brother. The only descendants of the Mattera family. They were destined to have actual leading roles in an important Famiglia of Baltimore, no less. They could be potentially dangerous. They were starting to be.

"But let's not talk about my grandfather just yet, Antonio. Actually, there is something I am very curious about," Alfonso resumed with a contained smile.

"I am all ears."

"Well, I've been told you were shot not two days ago and yet here you are, before my eyes, walking and talking in a way that makes me doubt my information," Alfonso said. He was trying to pass the remark casually, but he couldn't keep his eyes from scrutinizing Tony, probably trying to guess where he'd been shot and how he was taking the question.

"You're well informed," Tonio said with a half smile, "but I've seen worse and I have had a pretty nurse to … tend to my wounds."

"I should have known, you must be used to being wounded in a job such as yours."

Well, Tony hadn't had to wait long for Alfonzo to introduce the little "Federal Agent' issue. That was exactly why Alfonzo couldn't become the Padrino of his family. Not only did he lack finesse -which he could probably do without to a certain extent- but more importantly, he was impatient, brusque. Tony had to become like him, at least for the duration of their meeting. _Be careful_, the voice of Carmine rung in his head.

"What job _isn't _dangerous, nowadays?"

"I should think that being a Federal Agent, you were more exposed."

There was malice in Alfonso's eyes, but the glint of curiosity that Tony saw in them kept him from just getting up and leaving.

"You'd be surprised, actually. Now my position in a Fed agency does puts me in the line of fire a lot, but I can assure you the benefits I get from it makes it worth it," Antonio said with a little shrug and a crooked smile that seemed to insinuate that he used his daytime job for his nightly activities with Achenza.

"How can I trust you?" Alfonzo was blunt. He obviously didn't like beating around the bush or innuendos when he wasn't the one making them.

"See, that's your problem. In your position, you can never be perfectly sure. You have to watch behind you back while being careful where you walk."

"You say it like you don't have to do the same. But we all do."

"No, I don't. Because I'm on both sides at the same time. I have no back to give my enemies. I have _no_ blind spot."

Alfonso was looking at Tonio as if he hated his arrogance but admired his guts. As if he wanted to ask questions on how things worked because he was curious but was refraining from doing so because he wanted to keep the illusion of equality in their relation. Except that Tony was sitting, leaning back, legs crossed, and looked as if he ruled the world and actually did so with ease. They were no equals.

"You said you had a proposition for me," Alfonso Mattera said, sitting in a chair opposite Tonio's and leaning forward.

"Oh, no," the Achenzas' capo said, rearranging his shirt's cuffs as if he had no other cares in the world. He took his time too, confident in the fact that he had no reason to hurry in completing his answer. When he finished, he slowly looked up and smiled though the glint in his eyes made him look implacable. "But _you_ have one for me."

Alfonzo opened his mouth, obviously to protest, or ask what the hell he meant by that, but stopped short before he made a sound, probably trying to control his temper. Tony appreciated the effort. They weren't teenagers anymore, after all.

"I'm not following," Alfonzo said calmly after a few seconds, and Tony knew he had to give something to his counterpart if he didn't want him to cancel everything just because he felt patronized or under-estimated.

"Well, I am here because you have a plan. But you are aware that you don't have anything a new family needs to stand on its own. You need someone who does. You know I do. So, I am part of your plan. _Ergo_, you have a proposition for me."

Tony rolled his eyes mentally, he couldn't believe he actually said _ergo_. Had he been in Alfonso's shoes right then, he'd probably have already asked one of his goons to teach a lesson to the arrogant prick that thought he was Descartes. Luckily, Alfonso was more interested in understanding how the hell Tony knew that much.

"I understand you have very efficient sources," Alfonso said, choosing a polite and refrained answer. Had it not sounded so terribly off key that Tony had winced internally at the bad acting, DiNozzo could have respected the intent behind the gentle diplomacy.

"If they weren't, would you still want me?" Antonio asked with ease and a smile.

"Which one of my guys do I have to blame for your knowledge?"

"The simple fact that there was more than one man in on your plan surprises me. I may not have any problem watching my back, but I still have to be cautious, and I am not sure -"

"If you're worried about snitches-", Alfonso interrupted Tony.

"Snitches aren't a problem," Tony said, his voice colder. Alfonso shut his mouth, seeing in the older man's eyes the warning. _Don't ever interrupt me again._ "I smell them. The thing is, I learnt that the best way to keep a secret is to keep it to yourself. Second best way? Tell _one_ other person, and only if you must," Antonio paused and took the time to look around, his gaze seemingly lost in the garden for a few seconds before his attention snapped back to Mattera, "There is no third best."

And Tony hated that he was quoting Gibbs's rule number 4 in the home of a Mattera. He hated that it had come to him so naturally. He hated that these rules were engrained in his brain because lately, he'd been tired of them all. He'd wanted to snap at his partners whenever they quoted one. He'd wanted to yellthat he didn't care about the stupid rules. He couldn't. He was breaking them all.

"Elena Filangieri," Alfonso said after a thoughtful moment. And the way he said her name showed how smart he thought he was, "is she your _one other person_?"

"You don't need to tell her anything for her to learn you secrets, Signore Mattera," Tonio said, rolling his "R" and his eyes at the same time. Fortunately, Alfonso missed it, busy as he was getting up to show that he was taking a piece of crumpled paper from his pocket. Tony refrained from smiling.

"My friend, Matty, the man that met you at the diner? He told me he'd seen Miss Filangieri with you there. Now, I know how good Miss Filangieri is in her own field of expertise - information - and I wonder if she wasn't the one to inform you of my potential proposition. Which would mean that you'd have learnt about it not two hours ago."

Alfonso was gloating, feeling like he had won the upper hand back. Tony stayed silent, observing the man in front of him smooth the piece of paper that he had himself thrown on the table at the diner. Alfonso's small smirk disappeared when he read the words on the paper, the tip of his ears reddening, reminding Tony of how young and inexperienced the man was. Mattera's eyes were throwing sparks, probably feeling stupid now that he'd seen what Tony had read earlier when he had found the note in his palm in the diner.

"_Roses are red, Violets are blue, don't be late tonight, I have a surprise for you."_

"She's feisty," Tony assured when Alfonso threw the piece of paper on the ground and turned to give him his back for a moment.

"Enough with the games," Mattera ended up saying after long seconds. He turned back and stared into Tony's eyes. "So you know what I want, perfect, now I won't have to explain everything myself."

_Easy, Tiger, _Tony wanted to call.

"I'm not sure you know who I am, though. And by that I mean what I can do, and to what extent I'm ready to go," there was a crazed glint in Alfonso's eyes when he talked, and the stiffness of his upper body as he towered over Tony gave him a determined and dangerous look. "I am they younger brother and I should respect the hierarchy, but my place isn't behind anyone. I _know_ that I can do better than Benito for my family but they won't let me. I'll show them how it's done."

"And then?"

"And then? Don't think that I want to betray my family, _Agent_ DiNozzo. I love them and only want what is best for them. That is why I will succeed. Benito can't lead the Matteras. He'll bring us to shame and dust."

"You want to be able to be strong enough so that when he does, you can take them in _your_ new and solid family?"

"It will be too late to reconstruct our family after he is done with it. I will be ready. Standing apart, they will see how my leadership builds a prosperous business and they will be able to compare it with Benito's, or even with my uncle's."

"So you just want to save the Famiglia," Antonio summarized, conveying in his tone his approval.

"I know you have seen it too, Antonio. My uncle has lost that thing that made him the best. He's tired and the only thing keeping him from handing over the reins is the man who's supposed to succeed him."

Tony nodded neutrally , not wanting to insult the Matteras even if Alfonso was apparently giving him permission. Truth was, the boy's uncle had never been '_the best_', and Alfonso and his brother were cast in the exact same mold. The younger one was talking about leading a _business_ and Tonio wanted to sneer. Alfonso could talk all he wanted, he was no better than his brother, and he would transform his family into a gang instead of "saving it" like he said he wanted. Anthony wondered for a moment if the young man facing him actually believed what he was saying or was just finding excuses justifying the betrayal he wanted to commit. Even if he did believe what he said, Tony concluded, he didn't understand it.

"I showed you mine, now you show me yours," Alfonso said after he went back to his seat.

Tony smiled and shrugged.

"My name is DiNozzo, not Achenza."

Alfonso's eyes face darkened, not liking what he understood.

"You exist in this world _because_ of the Achenzas," Mattera said.

Tonio wanted to laugh because, seriously, was Benedict Arnold really pissed because Tony was ungrateful?

"I know. But I am not an Achenza, and other people were there before me," he said calmly, explaining. Realization dawned on Alfonso's face and Tony nodded.

"A newcomer who's not even from the family," the other man said, understanding what Tony's fake-problem was. "They'd fight you for the succession. But what would our association bring you?"

"A name of my own. Enough power for them to understand that I'm the best choice not because Carmine liked me, but because I'm good."

Alfonso leant back on the couch and chuckled.

"So we're not that different," he said, rearranging his cufflinks in an obvious but probably unconscious emulation of Tonio earlier.

_We're nothing alike._

"Yes, we're not that different."

.

.

The next two hours were logistics. The books were open. Tonio said he already formed the administration of their family - meaning he was naming the Don, underboss and consigliere.

"I want your enforcer," Alfonso said when they were talking about the different roles they had to fill. Tonio wanted to laugh at the impatience of the man. Alfonso was already giving names and jobs, it was ridiculous. This was what got families brought down by FBI idiots who couldn't even lace their shoes properly. Tonio could probably just back off and let Mattera stumble on his own feet and into the hands of Fornell, he was so reckless. But Carmine had said no police _or_ feds, so there he was, _taking care of it_.

"Lorenzo Anconetti isn't available. He won't leave Carmine. And I don't want yours either."

"Why? Johnny would follow me."

"_Johnny_ is a junky who'll end up a guest of the state before long. I don't want him anywhere near me."

"He gets the job done. Burnt more people for me this past year than anyone you could think of in the last five years."

"I'm glad your man can use his gun, but, like I said, I don't even want to hear his name again."

The rest of the conversation went pretty much the same way, Alfonso digging himself deeper and deeper into Tony's spite by using that Mafia lingo kids learnt from _the Sopranos_. Mattera had progressively let the elegant façade slip to unravel his true ways. He was what they called a _young turk_, younger and forgetting the old rules, but he didn't even do it smartly. Tonio ended up being the one raising to his feet. He had to put an end to the conversation. He felt Alfonso could probably just sit there all day and start calling people right away, giving orders and spreading the word about their _new family_ way too soon.

"You brother and uncle must be kept in the dark until the last second," Tony reminded and Alfonso rolled his eyes like a petty teenager. Tonio wanted to sigh, the outward calm and old-school show the kid had tried to put on first hadn't held 3 hours. "I hope you understand that I _will_ know it if you discuss this with anyone."

"I didn't want to insult your intelligence by telling you the same," Alfonso responded resentfully. Tony hid his smirk and shook the hand of the younger man in front of him, already turning around to walk away.

"Just remember, _col tempo la foglia di gelso diventa seta_."

"Patience, huh? And where are you going? I didn't call Matty to drive you back yet."

"Don't worry, I got my own ride."

And with that, he left. Walked down the pebble path he'd followed earlier and found his way out, hands in his pockets. Outside, there were five cars parked in the little road, their drivers hanging out or sitting on stools, smoking a cigarette. A sixth one was further away, and Alceo was sitting behind the wheel, reading the newspaper, sunglasses on his nose, as if his presence here was absolutely normal. Tonio could feel that Mattera had followed him, probably because he didn't understand (and believe) how Tony could possibly have a driver waiting for him outside his house when Matty had made sure that he wasn't followed on his way there, and that the location had been held secret until last minute. Tony just smiled, playing with the torn piece of paper in his pocket and walking to the door of the black car. Alceo had seen him coming and had already started the ignition. They were out of there before Alfonso could even turn around and yell at his second in command to come explain himself.

.

.

Carmine opened the door of the red room before Tony had even raised his hand to turn the door handle. The man took one look at Tony and passed a hand behind the younger man's back to guide him away from the room. Tonio raised an eyebrow.

"Your study?"

Carmine smiled and shook his head, and Tony shrugged and started to think back to all the things he needed to recap. Surprisingly, it was all fuzzy in his mind, as if he was trying to recall a very old memory that years had played with or eaten from. He had to focus particularly hard to stop his mind from spilling all over. The only constant was the contempt that stuck out for Mattera, so he started with that.

"You were right," he started, "he's just a kid playing with fire."

"Anthony," came the calm voice of Father, and it rung with a crystal quality in Tony's confused mind, calling it back to the present and clearing the clouds. He realized they'd walked to his room, and frowned again. "Rest now, son, we will talk later."

"I feel-"

Tony stopped before the word _fine_ could slip his lips, suddenly understanding why his brain couldn't let him concentrate on one thing, why he'd been so tired he couldn't keep his eyes open and had dozed off during the forty-five minute drive home. He realized he felt cold air on his skin when he walked. He was feverish and damp with perspiration and suddenly, he felt like his body was weak, his legs cotton like and his head spinning.

"-Damn," he whispered, entering his room. His legs led him to his bed and he immediately looked in the duffel bag he'd left on it earlier. He found his pills quickly enough and swallowed two of them dry.

"You didn't take them this morning," Carmine said, not needing to make it a question.

"Can't think as fast when I do."

Carmine swore in Italian, and it was rare enough for Tony to look up, surprised.

"I should have postponed," the older man said, and Tonio really thought he hadn't heard right because Carmine Achenza _never_ expressed regret or doubt over a decision.

"I was fine all day, it went perfect. He even doubted I really got shot."

"I don't care about what that kid thinks," Carmine said, shaking his head as if Tony was completely missing the point.

"Well you should, Father, because he thinks we're about to build a family with the best of the Matteras and the Achenzas," Tony replied, amused. "I had to get out of there before he asked me what color I wanted for the wallpaper of our future house," he added ironically, passing a hand through his hair with a cocky smile.

The success of the afternoon didn't ease the stiffness of Carmine's expression though, and he turned on his heels to leave.

"Sleep."

"Really, Carmine?" Tony said with a smirk, "I'm fine now, we can talk."

And he really did feel better. The meds were already kicking in and he just wanted to see the frown disappear from Carmine's face. He felt uneasy about it, not understanding it or his own reaction to those wrinkles between the eyes of Father.

"No, Anthony," Carmine's voice rung like an order and Tonio could practically see the Don, the figure of authority, the leader of the Famiglia, in the steel of his voice. "Mattera can wait. Your health is more important." And here was the _man_ holding the reins, the soul that held the family together and that made each member loyal and proud of belonging.

The door closed, leaving Tony alone in the room as he cautiously laid his wounded back on the bed, eyes staring at the ceiling. It was the _worry_ that made Carmine's voice so authoritative, he thought. It was the _care_ that made Father the leader that he was. He may be smarter or have more charisma than the other Padrinos, but Tony knew it was the _soul_ that made him the best. As he was slowly slipping into unconsciousness, Tony remembered that one time Carmine had let himself go into anger. _"Nobody touches MY house,"_ he'd yelled_, "MY family._" And it had been more than anger. It had been absolute rage provoked by his absolute devotion. Nothing was more important than his people. That was why Alfonso Mattera and his older brother Benito could only fail. Antonio, though, Antonio... He understood.

Tony was already fast asleep when Francesca slipped into the room not five minutes later. She found her way to the only large and comfy chair of the room and sat there, watching Tony for long minutes before she brought her hands to her face, her knees against her chest and stayed like that, trying to breath calmly if only not to disturb her resting older brother.

.

.

Tony woke up feeling something itching like crazy in his back, and he had to remind himself not to just scrape the dressing off. He felt the heaviness in his bones that meant he had slept way longer than he should and remembered the events of the day before. A glance at his watch told him it was nearly 8 in the morning, so he knew Achenza was having breakfast in the blue room, probably waiting for him too. Tony didn't take the time to shower, barely even brushing his teeth, washing his face before he changed from his crumpled clothes and got out of his room. Carmine was there, sitting at the large table, looking as fresh as usual, and drinking his coffee with his newspaper folded on the side. He barely looked up when Tony arrived, and the small smile that played on his lips showed his satisfaction. Tony looked liked new, even with his light stubble. Carmine let the younger man eat some, drink his coffee (that was already milked with sugar) before they got to business.

They left the room more than two hours later, both satisfied though the rampant feeling of anxiousness that always came with the waiting part of any good plan left them with short breath and a propensity to imagine the worst.

Tony then called Francesca to ask her if she was up for a ride, just like old times. She sighed contently in the phone, and agreed. Twenty minutes later, they were in the car Alceo usually drove, with Tony behind the wheel and Cesca at his side, pulling away from the mansion. She rolled down the window on her side, just enough to feel the light stroke of the wind playing with her hair and making it dance in a crazy choreography when he sped up. She was trying to tuck her feet under her when Tony shot her a dark look but pinched his lips as if he was refraining from saying something. She couldn't help but laugh freely.

"Really, Tonio? 9 years later, you're still going to give me the '_no shoes on the leather seats' _rule?"

"I didn't say anything!"

"Your eyes spoke volumes," she chuckled, getting out of her snickers with her feet before she brought her knees under her chin and turned to the window again.

"Do you wear those shoes to work?" Tony asked before long, and Cesca had to roll her eyes at that.

"What are you, the fashion police?"

"Seriously, Cesca, you did not just say that!" Tony said, glancing at her before he locked his eyes back on the road, shamelessly laughing at her.

"I don't wear those at work, idiot," she answered, ignoring his last comment. "Actually, I could, it's not like I'm in an office or anything. And you know what? Even if I was, I'm pretty sure I could pull it off."

"I don't doubt it," Tony snickered, still with his huge smile.

"You look so dumb like that!"

"Shut up, I'm hot."

"Overgrown kid," Cesca snorted under her breath.

"Mentally old lady," Tony huffed just as (supposedly) discreetly.

Cesca mimed indignation, but just ended up smiling like a fool, and when Tony glanced at her watching out the window with the sun behind her profile, he thought he could see the 15 year-old girl he'd come to care for a billion years ago. They fell into a comfortable silence only interrupted when Tony finally found the radio station he wanted and the first notes of _Baby it's cold outside_ echoed in the air. Tony's eyebrows shot up, agreeably surprised seeing how it was definitely not the usual season for it to be aired. Cesca started moving her head, following the rhythm, and Tony couldn't help but softly tap on the wheel, along with the music. Cesca turned to throw him an amused smile, and he caught her eyes and winked. The next chorus had them both singing at the top of their lungs, overacting in their role, Francesca losing it at the_ "if you_ _caught pneumonia and died" _line Tony sang, pretending to be really worried and lowering his tone. They did the Kinks, Sinatra and even a little Beatles, Tony and Francesca taking turns switching channels at the end of every song while they drove in abandoned areas that though grey and sad seemed peaceful and even wistful with the beams of sunshine, the music and the company.

The first time Tony had taken Francesca on a ride like that was because she was upset for a reason he didn't know and he hadn't had any better idea than putting her in a car and driving her away from her worries. They'd wound up in an old airport where the wire gates were torn open enough for Tony's car to slip through it (he had closed his eyes and refused to look for the scraping damages it had done to the bodywork before he was back at the mansion two hours later). The airport had been their thing after that. Tony had never learnt what had bothered Cesca so much that first time, he'd never asked and by the time she was back at home, she was relaxed and laughing at some stupid joke her Papa's new man, Antonio, had told her. He became Tonio, the guy that always messed her hair when she pouted for no reason and that pretended he didn't hear her complain about her problems only to _always_ find a solution to each of them when she wasn't looking.

Eventually, they stopped switching channels, settling for one that actually had more music than radio host blabbering. Cesca rolled the window down some more and stuck her hand out, feeling the pressure of the wind against her palm and trying to control it by spreading her fingers or moving her hand up and down, as if she was following the current of a wave when it rolled under the sun, deep into the ocean. There was nothing left in her of that cold, professional woman entering an NCIS interrogation room to defend her mob client. She was only 24, Tony remembered. _You're so young_.

"This is life," she whispered to herself, closing her eyes when a beam of sunlight momentarily touched her face. And Tony wanted to follow the sun just so she could keep seeing whatever was making her smile like that, behind her closed lids.

_So young. _The surge of determination that usually shot through him now and then, reminding him of what he was doing and _why_ jolted in his chest again, but this time it wasn't just a flash throwing his heart into a gallop and making his gut twist like he'd received a shot of adrenalin. No, this time the feeling didn't disappear as fast as it came. It became steel inside his chest, anchoring itself deeper. He thought of her father and he couldn't help but imagine Poseidon emerging from the sea and rising higher than everything else in the sky to look over the men who lived on the water. Tony smiled and shook his head. The drugs were probably still messing with his head. Looking at the rear view mirror of the car, he almost expected to find dry land growing smaller and smaller as he drove away. He was glad he didn't. He was glad it was all in his imagination. Because he was probably too far away to see the people he was leaving behind on that land, and it would just break his heart to try to look back for them, just to realize he was too far gone already.

.

.

.

Tony was getting out of his car when someone called him. He had just dropped Cesca off at a restaurant where she was meeting with a friend of hers when a young, cracking voice he didn't recognize called him again, this time more excited.

"Uncle Tonio!"

Intrigued, he turned around only to find a skinny giant running to him with a big smile. He stopped a few meters away, as if suddenly feeling self-conscious, blushing a bit as he now stood awkwardly staring at Tony. The _capo_ had been surprised at first, the teenage boy facing him had no doubt been about to hug him as if they were old friends, and God knew that Tony was _not_ the kind to just give hugs to stranger young boys like that. But then the kid smiled, gingerly looking up while he scratched the back of his head.

"Uncle Tonio, it's me, -"

"Julian," Tony exclaimed. "Jesus, kid, last time I saw you, I had to kneel to talk to you face to face!" he added, truly happy to see the young boy he had often played ball with when he was still waist-high. Now Tony had to look up to see him in the eyes.

"I was nine, uncle Tonio!" the boy said, embarrassed.

"I know, I was at your birthday, remember?"

"Yeah, you gave me the coolest bike!"

"Well sure, I'm the coolest guy," Tony said, making a self-assured comical expression. "Wait, is your brother with you? Is Enzo here too?" he asked, looking around for the older brother. He nearly missed the wince on Julian's face at the mention of his brother's name. Tony frowned.

"No, Enzo doesn't live here anymore," the kid said in what he tried to pass as a casual tone.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes, no, sure! Don't worry! I mean, it's not that he's ill or anything. I mean, I don't think he is. It's just that... he's been gone for a while and I don't really have any news, you know?"

Tony frowned. Enzo Anconetti was four years older than his brother, and at 13, he was already the most protective brother Tony had ever seen. He could never have left Julian without news, Tony thought. Did something happen to him? Should he investigate? Maybe he was gone missing. A mental head slap brought him from his straying thoughts. He was being stupid. It was probably nothing. The uneasiness of Julian as he talked with his eyes down did nothing to relieve him though, and a bad feeling was slowly spreading in his chest. Leaving those two kids behind had been nearly as hard as leaving Francesca, nine years earlier. He'd come to actually care for the boys after he ate at their home every day. Their mother would make the most delicious lasagna Tony had ever tasted, and she'd always insist for him to stay after he'd worked with her husband all day. She'd even give him the leftovers when he left after the meal. They had treated him like family from the first week. She was one of the only people that could hug Tony without him drawing away or at least protesting. Though he had been very careful and a bit paranoid when he'd first started his assignment, it was _this_ family that had accepted him like he belonged.

"Where's you brother, Julian?"

"He's in college. He got a scholarship," the teenager informed with renewed happiness. He was obviously proud of his brother. "He wants to be a teacher, always wanted to. But dad..," Julian shook his head and sighed.

That was the thing about the Anconetti family. Their father was the very man that had haunted Tony's dreams for months. Lorenzo "_Say-your-prayer"_ Anconetti. He was a loving father, probably never touched a hair off his sons' heads -Achenza didn't accept abuse anyway- but he was a member of the Famiglia before anything else, and he had always taken pride in the fact that one day, his sons would take his place. And going to college to become a _teacher,_ of all things? Probably not what Lorenzo had in mind for his elder son.

"We started hearing rumors, you know. About dad and everything. Enzo... he didn't like it."

"He confronted your father, didn't he?"

"Yeah... there was a lot of yelling. One week after that, I wake up in the morning, go to his room, and he was gone. Hadn't even graduated yet," Julian said, shrugging. He sounded wistful rather than bitter, as he could have. "I don't know what dad told him the day they talked but I guess Enzo didn't agree."

"Is your mom okay?"

Julian shrugged again, not meeting Tony's eyes, and tried smiling. There was something touching in his ginger tentative to minimize what had happened. Fact was, he knew Ciara, Lorenzo's wife. He knew that her kids were the apple of her eye. She had probably been heartbroken. Regret filled Tony. Would he have been able to prevent this from happening if he'd been there? He could've defended Enzo from his father. He could've assured him that he would take care of his education. That the Famiglia would help him, whatever he chose to do.

College was a great opportunity that few kids with parents '_in'_ chose to take. When your father was in the Famiglia, you were automatically in too. From your childhood to your death. Whatever happened. Tony thought of the Agnesini brothers. They'd been orphaned at eight years-old, but their mother had been one of the maids for Achenza, so they had been taken in and had never even heard of social services. Tony wanted to keep that spirit but change things. He could think of dozens of ideas to make life better for the families of those involved with _the_ Family. Sending the kids to college would be a priority. He knew he could sell it to Carmine. Henchmen, soldiers, messengers… they were easy to find and to replace, but educated members that could actually have a legitimate work on the side would only bring more value to the family. It would also spread their influence into new sectors. They were not in the 70s anymore, they had to think bigger. Tony's speech formed in his head, almost involuntarily. He could turn things around. He could burnish the Achenza name again. Help and conquer at the same time, as it was meant to be.

"Will you come by and have dinner with us? Like we used to? Mom would be so happy, Uncle Tonio. You know she cried a lot when..."

Julian stopped mid-sentence, just like he had stopped running to him earlier, probably remembering he was 18 and not 9 anymore. The very young man made a face at his mistake, and Tony gave him a half-smile, reassuring the kid.

"I'll talk to your father about it," he promised, and Julian's face immediately fell. He was so easy to read and seemed so genuine that Tony couldn't help but wonder if anyone had already tried to take advantage of the boy.

"Oh, okay."

"Huh, guess he's didn't keep his feeling toward me to himself," Tony joked. He could just imagine Lorenzo grumbling and whining about Tony's return and betrayal. Julian must have heard some nice things at the dinner table. The kid blushed again, and Tony chuckled to let him know he wasn't upset. Reaching out to tap his cheek, he promised him he'd come by anyway and, resting his hand on the back of Julian's neck, he softly pushed him toward the Achenza mansion, inviting him in.

They walked directly to the kitchen, where two maids were eating in a corner of the large table in the center of the room, chatting quietly in Italian. The women were in their late fifties, maybe a little older, but they immediately got up on their feet, apologizing and ready to scurry out of sight when the two men arrived. Tonio soothed them with a joke and a "please, don't let us disturb you". He didn't accept any help when he took out two bowls, some milk and cereals and put them on the table next to the women, who had blanched. They were staring at each other silently, as if waiting for the shoe to drop.

"Do you want us to set the diner table, Signore?" one of them asked, perplexed at Tony's apparent intention to just sit there and eat _in the kitchen_.

"No, that would be ridiculous. Don't worry, I like eating in the kitchen sometimes. I always used to stay with the kitchen women when I was a kid, they made me the best meals," Tony said with a small smile that conveyed his genuine affection for the women in his memory. It made the two women currently sitting at the same table smile and relax a bit.

"We are not used to having members of the family with us," a woman, the one with her hair in a classic bun, said tentatively.

"Come now, Ada, you _are_ part of the family," Tonio assured.

Julian was watching with a happy smile, eating his cereals and seemingly enjoying the simplicity of the situation.

"Signore Antonio, you know my name?" the woman, Ada, stuttered, her eyes widening.

"Of course, how could I forget! You're the woman who taught Francesca how to say no to boys!" he asked, with an amused twinkle in his eyes while he himself ate. Ada was flustered and amused at the same time, understanding that it wasn't an accusation. "I'm so glad you did it before she came to me to ask. And Domitilia," he turned to the other woman, "how are your kids doing? Does Arturo still works at the factory?"

"No, Signore, he was fired last week," Domitilia said, looking down as if embarrassed.

"Tell him why, Domi," Ada encouraged, patting her friend's hand and leaning toward her in support.

"He didn't do anything wrong, he was sick and couldn't go to work for a week. When he came back, Mr. Haynes told him he had been replaced," the woman said in her accented voice.

"What! This is scandalous!" Julian exclaimed, eyes wide. His ears reddened when the three adults turned to him, surprised by his outburst. Tony smiled to him, internally glad that Julian had turned out to be such a nice and eager young man despite the father he had.

"Did you say Haynes? Why does that name sound familiar?"

Both women shrugged, and Tony was about to try and cheer them up when his phone rang, the caller id. read McGee, and he knew he couldn't ignore it.

"I'm sorry, ladies," he said charmingly, getting up, "I have to go," then to Julian, "do you need a ride? I can drop you off at your place."

"I was supposed to wait for my da- ah, never mind, I'm sure he's busy elsewhere. I'll come along," Julian nodded and Tony smiled and tilted his head to the two women before he finally pushed the green button to answer his partner.

"_Tony, damn it, why didn't you answer the first time?_" McGee's voice from the other end of the line came snappy and Tony automatically quickened his pace, feeling something was wrong. Plus, McGeek never swore.

"What is it, Probie?"

"_There was a man waiting for Ziva in her apartment_."

"Where is she? Is she okay?"

"_Yes, she pulled her gun and he went running from the fire escape."_

"Wait, he ran? Was he waiting _for her_ or did she catch him snooping around?"

"_You're thinking that they were looking for something? Or planting bugs?_" McGee asked, losing some of his edge to focus. He always needed someone to give him something to do, to think about, when something bad happened and he found himself having nothing material to do to help. "_Where are you anyway? I tried calling you home when you didn't answer the first time but you didn't answer. Oh wai-wait, are you in Baltimore? You're just out of the hospital, Tony, don't tell me you're in Baltimore_!" Here it was, the anger again. "_Gibbs will be calling you anytime now to work on the-_-"

"First things first, McGee, you didn't answer me. _Where_ and _how_ is Ziva? And did you catch the guy?"

"_She's with Abby at the yard, she wouldn't sit this one out. And Ziva's apartment building has many surveillance cameras, we think we might have caught the guy's face, Abby said she'd text us as soon as she has a face_-"

"Okay, McGee, keep me post-" Tony was interrupted by the beeping of his phone, signaling him he had received a message. He looked at his screen to see that Abby had sent him a picture with a note. _I'm running him through the database, tell you when there's a hit, _it read. Clicking on the link to download the picture, Tony found himself staring at a man looking straight at the camera in the elevator. He was average on every point, height, weight, hair, built. The guy nobody noticed. Except that Tony _knew_ this face.

"_Did you get the picture too? Hello? Tony?_" McGee's voice called Tony back to reality, and the SFA realized he was clenching the phone too tight in his hand and had pushed the button silencing the mic.

"I'm right here," Tony said darkly. "I got to go, keep me posted."

"_Wait, when will you arrive here? I have to tell Gibbs something or he'll just harass me to call you back and_-"

Tony ground his teeth. Of course McGee would automatically assume that Tony was already in a car, driving to DC. It was Tony DiNozzo's rule number one, after all.

"I'm not supposed back for a few more days, McGee."

He hated himself for saying the words.

"_Do you mean... that you're really not coming?_"

There was something utterly lost in the way surprise was laced with disappointment in Tim's tone. Tony forced himself not to just throw the phone against the first wall he saw.

"You said it yourself, I'm just out of the hospital, I'm not supposed to be back to work yet. Talk to you soon."

And he hung up.

.

"Uncle Tonio, are you okay?"

Tony was extremely aware of his surroundings as he snapped his phone shut and turned to Julian, who was still waiting against the wall next to the large metallic exterior doors. The car Alceo had driven from D.C was parked just in front of him, but Alceo was still talking to some men several feet away. Tony recognized two older soldiers (they called them goombahs) sitting on stools with a wobbly table between them and a few younger men around them. There were always a bunch of guys playing cards and standing guard next to the outside doors, and they were always the perfect people to ask when you wanted to know who came in and out, and when. That was why Alceo was always talking to them. It was a trick Tony had taught him. He'd always play a few rounds, tell a few jokes, and tongues loosened naturally, without even asking questions, Tony often got up and left from these little gatherings with more information than he'd come in with.

"Yes, just thinking," Tony answered with a little delay. Before long, he had regained his easy smile and shaken away the thoughts bothering him. "You're sure you won't get in trouble if I drive you home though, right? You weren't supposed to wait for your father?"

"I was," Julian made a face and shrugged, looking down, "but he was supposed to come back two hours ago, I guess he just got caught up in _whatever,_ again. He's probably still by the docks."

"The docks?" Tony asked distractedly as he motioned to Alceo that it was time to go.

"Yes, when he's not here, he's there," Julian answered, shrugging, before he got into the car which door Tony had opened for him.

.

When Alceo and Tony dropped the boy off at his house, Tony informed Alceo of the next destination he wanted to go before he remembered he had a few questions for him.

"Al, do you know where Julian's brother is?"

"Enzo? Last I heard, he was in college."

"Which one? And where did he go when he ran away? He was still in high school at the time, who could have taken him in with the father he has?"

"I don't really know, Tonio, you want me to look into it?"

"You don't know? I thought you were supposed to know everything about everyone working for Father?" Tony lightly accused while he watched the streets and buildings they drove by.

They were driving across the city, and every neighborhood they went through pushed him deeper into his memories. He remembered the first time he had driven through these same streets, back when he was still young and a bit nervous to start his new job. At the time, he had tried to memorize every nook and cranny of what he saw, he'd tried to take the scents, the sights, the _people_ in and make them his as he knew his job would soon make him theirs. This time though, he wasn't so eager. He wasn't even really aware of what he was watching. His mind was partly on Alceo, talking to him, partly on Ziva, because even though he hadn't been there, he felt like he'd been right with her, physically present when she opened her door, heard some suspicious noise, and entered her living room to find a half-crouched man looking into her things.

No, he was definitely not focused on the asphalt, the sidewalks, and the small flights of stairs leading to apartments hidden behind rusty old signs. But then again, he didn't _need_ to pay attention. Something in him was naturally welcoming everything back. The city's aura and the feelings he'd known when it had been _his_ city, his home. It was like slowly walking into the sea water after a year away from the beach. He didn't need to get reacquainted to this city, because he had never really lost contact. When he had left, he'd taken a part of it with him, and now that he was back, he felt that part grow in him while the feel of Baltimore enveloped every inch of his skin from the outside. He had grown and matured since the last time he'd been there, but as he passed a hand through his hair and leant his elbow on the side door, he was slipping back into old Tony, the detective wearing shoulder holsters and turtle necks, cocky but burning with passion for his job, his city, and later... his people.

.

"And do you know a certain Haynes? Owns a factory down in the southern district?"

"He doesn't have just one," Alceo answered without taking his eyes off the road. "He controls half the industrial activity of the city. These last five years, he's been buying anything he can, you know, one of those lucky bastards enjoying the recession. Just another low-life thug hiding behind nice suits and business cards, if you want my opinion."

"What makes you think that?"

"You know how they say you can judge a man by the way his employees talk about him and all that? Well, most of them would just quit if they could. There's been a couple of men, sons of an old friend of Father, apparently. They came to us last year to see if we could help them find a job because they couldn't work for Haynes anymore."

"Did we ever do business with him?"

"No, man. He's been nothing but a pain in our ass for years. Before that, I think he was just a nobody. You know the type.."

Tony did know the type, and didn't insist. He'd had this weird feeling of deja vu when Domitilia had said his name, and he felt like he was forgetting something, but it didn't matter right now, he had other business to attend to.

"We're here," Alceo said, slowing down when he recognized a few men walking out of a warehouse and just hanging out near the doors. He parked not too far away and looked at Tonio, waiting to see what the _capo_ had planned exactly. Alceo had no idea what they were doing at the docks.

"Why are all these men here?" Tony asked, squinting his eyes to have a better view of what he knew to be soldiers of the Achenzas.

"They follow Lorenzo, Tonio, you want me to tell them to go back at the house?"

"They'd obey?"

"Of course."

"Just keep them out of my way then."

"Sure, they may be loyal to him, but he answers to me."

"You sure about that, Al?" Tonio asked, raising an eyebrow.

Before his friend could say anything, he had taken the leather briefcase that had been by his feet and was out of the car and walking assuredly to the warehouse. The first man to spot him elbowed the one next to him to pass the news. Soon, half a dozen men of various ages were standing in front of the warehouse's large garage door, looking straight at him. Tony could hear Alceo's footsteps behind him, and though the thought that he should have told the boys to tag along for this one crossed his mind, the memory of the phone call he'd received earlier made that shadow of doubt vanish. As he walked in his quick, determined strides, he looked up and around, taking everything in. A rare beam of sunshine touched his face and he smiled as he breathed deeply, acutely feeling every inch of his Baltimore self waking up at the smell of the port, at the adrenalin, at the anger.

He walked right by the men standing guard, and entered the warehouse, whose darkness engulfed him.

Lorenzo was talking to another man, large and tanned, in a corner of the room. They were the only two people in the very large hangar and it was the echo of Antonio's footsteps that alerted them of his presence. Lorenzo dismissed the man with a sign of his hand and turned to face Tony with a scowl that told of all his love. Tony and the bulky man crossed path, each one going in a direction, the man quickened his strides when he caught a glimpse of Tony's eyes.

"Antonio," Lorenzo managed to look like he had just spit on dirt rather than talked.

The scowl on the older man's face morphed into a frown when he noticed that Tony had drawn significantly closer but didn't look like he intended to stop. Anconetti didn't even have the time to open his mouth again between the moment Tony pulled his gun and the moment he was lying, unconscious, on the ground.

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So?

**Was the chapter too long?**

What did you think of Alfonso Mattera? Tony's moment with Cesca? Julian? Ahh, so many questions!


	16. Chapter 16

I love how everyone have different opinions about this story and its characters.** Here are some statistics (not really):**

Most of you didn't find the last chapter too long, but some did think some parts were a bit heavy or slow. Sorry about that.

You all hate Alfonso Mattera (who could blame you), but some because they find him stupid and lacking finesse, others because he's dangerous. I like that some of you even indulge him because he's a _dreamer. _

Julian, the little kid (well, he's 18 now, but still) has made a good first impression, if I dare say. Glad about it, I myself like his eagerness. But I created him, so who am I to judge.

Some saw the ride with Francesca as sweet and a happy break, others thought it heartbreaking. To tell the truth, I aimed for both. Tony is definitely not a simple man.

I'm particularly happy that some of you share their ideas and speculate on what's going to happen. To those of you who are wondering if I myself know where I'm going with that mess, rest assured, the answer is YES. And you're going to see that very soon ;) (well, at least I hope you'll see it!).

If you wonder what the hell I've been doing all these weeks, not posting, please accept my apologies. I'm a student and my final competitive exams (you know, the ones that will make me or break me forever) are starting next week. So yeah, lots on my mind. But Tony never leaves me for too long :)

Thanks to Deborah, my wonderful beta whose insight is now irreplaceable. She tells me when I'm not making any sense, be it on the narration or the spelling/grammar front, so yeah, without her you'd probably not be able to understand the world I'm trying to create and show you.

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><p>.<p>

Previously, on Honor Thy Father:

_The scowl on Lorenzo '_Say-your-prayers_' Anconetti's face morphed into a frown when he noticed that Tony had drawn significantly closer but didn't look like he intended to stop. Anconetti didn't even have the time to open his mouth again between the moment Tony pulled his gun and the moment he was lying, unconscious, on the ground._

.

.

When Lorenzo Anconetti opened his eyes, wincing from the pain he felt on the left side of his face, the incredulity of his expression was way more telling than the actual groan he let out. It was almost funny, Tony thought, the men used to giving the hits weren't used to taking them, and Lorenzo seemed so surprised by the state he was finding himself in that even Alceo, next to him, smirked and shook his head. Then there was the anger Tony was expecting. The older man's face darkened and his hands twitched, making him realize they were cuffed.

"There's a law about feds using their handcuffs like that," Anconetti's rusty voice said, low and bitter.

"I don't think there's any about using yours. You have useful toys," Tony answered pleasantly as he got up and walked to a little table he'd had Alceo drag, along with two chairs, in the center of the otherwise almost empty room. Lorenzo was sitting uncomfortably on the first one Tonio had been patiently waiting on the one opposite, reading a file he had with him and going through it with genuine interest. The briefcase he'd brought with him was on the table, along with a gun in a plastic bag and two knives.

"Do you know what you just did?"

"I believe it is called _pistol whipping,_" Tony answered with a small smile before he turned to face the man on the chair. He observed him for a few seconds and decided to join him, going back to sit on the chair facing Lorenzo.

"You're so damn arrogant, you _strunzo_," Anconetti said, seething. He had lowered his face and was looking at Tony from a threatening angle, his mouth set in a deformed twitch that gave him a deranged look.

"You'd be too, if you had just pistol whipped _you_," Tony answered, unfazed and apparently enjoying the twitching of Lorenzo's right eye as he repeated the pistol whipping for the second time.

"You're gonna die slowly, shit," Lorenzo simply threatened with a calm that would have unhinged lesser men.

"Don't go giving me good ideas while I have you tied to a chair, Lorenzo," Antonio said with a small smile that though not a smirk gave his face a darker complexion and his ways a threatening air. He waved Alceo away, and the second nodded and left the room.

"What now, you gonna beat the shit outta me? I'll have you arrested for that, _Agent_. " Lorenzo said with his petty thug accent. Tony wanted to slap him out of this act. He knew for a fact Anconetti didn't really talk nor act like this. He was playing cocky as if he was in an interrogation room back at NCIS. Except Tony knew they weren't.

"First, you wouldn't bring the cops into that. Second, you know you can't whack me either and that pisses you off way more. Touch a hair off my head and Carmine and half the family will make sure you get a taste of your own medicine."

"Hiding behind Father's back? He won't always be there to watch over you, kid. One day you'll be on your own."

"Talk about Father's death one more time and you'll be the one not living to see tomorrow," Tony's voice echoed in the large room, his voice suddenly darker.

"Don't you dare pretend you care more about him than I do. You do _not_ belong to this family!" Lorenzo roared, his head snapping up and his fists contracting.

Tony smiled and leant back against his chair, all traces of anger gone. Lorenzo was finally losing the useless facade.

"Look at you," Lorenzo resumed with spite, "throwing threats with that big smile. Posing as a member of our family and stabbing us in the back without missing a beat. I _hate_ your kind. Nothing actually touches you. You act and play, but _feel_ nothing. You damn piece of shit, you SOB, you -"

"The word you're apparently looking for is psychopath," Tony cut Lorenzo in his enumeration with a cold smile. Slowly, lazily, even, leveling his eyes at him, he readjusted himself in the chair on which he was sitting so casually that one could think he was actually on a comfy couch instead of that wooden, stiff little chair. "And really, you should know better than to try and piss one off if that's really what you think."

Lorenzo spit on the ground in response. Tony threw his head back and laughed.

.

.

"What now?" Lorenzo resumed after a long moment of silence that didn't seem to bother Tony in the slightest. He actually looked like he was content with being here. Not annoyed, not angry, not even eager to get over it quickly so he could go back to whatever business he had to attend to. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

"Now, let's talk of your recent activities."

"I don't have to tell you anything."

"_Au contraire_," Tony said, stretching his arm behind him so he could fetch the leather briefcase on the table. He put it by his feet, not having use of it yet. "You are not a member of the administration of this family, Lorenzo. You have no _initiatives_ to take if you are not given a direct order."

"I've been in this family before you were even born -"

"Don't interrupt me."

Lorenzo was not one to lower his head, but the tone - icy, uncompromising, dark- had him shutting his mouth, grinding his teeth.

"_You_ obey. I lead. Now I don't like what I've been seeing around here lately. Your little secret meetings with men from outside. Your shaking hands with gang leaders from the other side of Baltimore."

Tony got up and drew closer to the man facing him. Squatting enough to be at eye level with Lorenzo, he took the time to let his eyes scrutinize him closer. Then he looked back into the surprised eyes of Lorenzo "_Say-your-prayer_" Anconetti and raised his hand to touch the man's now sweaty shirt.

"Not wearing the usual tracksuit today, Lorenzo? Wanted to make yourself pretty for your other friends?"

"Don't you dare -"

Lorenzo stopped when he realized Tony was pointing two fingers toward his mouth, thumb up in the air. As if he was holding a gun to Anconetti's mouth. Lorenzo was too versed in this universe not to understand what it meant. Everybody new the code. A bullet in the mouth means you're a rat.

"I am NOT a traitor."

"What's your business with the meth dealers?"

"I don't have to tell _you_ anything."

"Don't make me have Carmine ask you."

"I only answer to him."

"Wrong. You know what will happen if I tell him you're not obeying? Carmine is like me. He likes order."

"I've served for his brother before him. I've been here -"

"Yes. You've been here for a long time. And how long had Ricci been working for Achenza when you burnt him, Lorenzo? 30, 35 years?" Tony paused, letting Anconetti understand what he was saying. "_Order_."

Anconetti didn't like Tony, but he knew Antonio was Father's second. Before Emilio and even Joseph, the consigliere. And whatever you thought of him, he was now reminded the hard way that you did _not_ disobey the second. Ricci had been one of Father's older associates. He had been so close to the family that people sometimes thought he was actually related to Carmine. He was respected and considered a brother of the Father by all. Until the day Ricci didn't respect the hierarchy. Carmine had lifted a finger, Lorenzo had done his job, Ricci was out. As simple as that. _Order_.

"I wanted them to stay away from us. They were starting to come in our area. Selling their shit to our kids. Went to tell them to be careful with what they did."

"And ended up being friends?"

"No. They weren't the ones selling by the southern district. They know we wouldn't have liked it. Told me there were new people, outbuying them all and not knowing the limits."

"They gave you names."

"Yes," Lorenzo said, snorting. "I guess they wanted to _kill_ any kind of competition."

"What did you do?"

"Sent them a warning," Lorenzo said shrugging.

Tony rose up and gave his back to the man, going to the chair he'd left to take a folder out of the suitcase he'd borrowed from Joseph to bring some folders with him. Blood was pumping near his temple in a rhythm Tony could hear echoing in the room. He was furious. He wasn't surprised, but still, he was furious. Since he'd been back in Baltimore, he had been monitoring the cases received by the Baltimore PD, _just in case_. And he had _known_. When he'd seen the case of the twenty year old man killed with a shot through the eye. A _warning_.

A bullet in the mouth means you're a rat. One through the eyes, and '_We're watching you'_.

"Do you think it's over?" Antonio asked, refraining his anger.

"No. They're gonna try something when they know it's from us. But then they're gonna hear our name, and understand."

"_US_? There is no **us**. You did this on your own," Tony said, struggling to keep a steady voice. He locked eyes with Lorenzo, trying to convey how serious he was. "The family won't take the fall for this. You went behind our back. If anything happens, we are cutting you off."

Anger crossed Anconetti's features, and he was about to answer but Tony had already grabbed his face with a hand, digging his fingers into the man's sweaty skin.

"I was hoping you would do something so stupid, Lorenzo," Tonio said, his voice so low it was barely audible. The whisper was dark though, and he moved even closer, bringing his mouth near the man's ear and digging his fingers deeper. "Now the family will know you can be a liability. They will stop protecting you so much."

Lorenzo was smart enough to understand there was something behind Tony's words, and when the younger man released his hold and drew away, he didn't speak. The _capo_ was already on the phone.

"You have him? Good, then bring him to me now."

They didn't have to wait long before the large doors opened again and Alceo and Febo arrived with a third man, walking him in like a prisoner. The man had his hands tied with a rope that was already leaving burning marks on his skin. Good. He walked looking down but Tony recognized him immediately. He had just seen a picture of him on his phone, after all. Tony made a vague wave with his hand, and Alceo threw the man on the ground next to Lorenzo's chair. The older man had obviously understood. Everything was clear now. Tony wouldn't have gone to such extent - hitting him, cuffing him to a chair - just to interrogate him about his business with the meth dealers. It was not his style.

"Yes, Lorenzo. I recognized your friend here from the pictures the surveillance cameras took in my partner's building. You know, the ones you were obviously staring at," he added in the other man's general direction.

"She wasn't hurt," Lorenzo said, shrugging unapologetically.

"No, she wasn't. Your boy here would've had his throat sliced open before he could have tried anything funny anyway. But this is not the point now, is it?"

He paused and silently ordered Febo out of the room. Alceo walked with the younger soldier to the door, which he closed before he leant on it, still inside himself.

"You will not kill him. And torture isn't your style," Lorenzo said, still self-assuredly. Yet his eyes were gauging, trying to guess what Tony's next move would be.

Antonio just smiled and slightly shook his head before he went back to sit on his designated chair.

"You shouldn't be worried about _him_, Lorenzo."

Taking more folders from the suitcase he put them in his lap and enjoyed the heavy silence while he looked through them.

"Alex Sanders. That's the name of the '_warning'_ you sent your meth dealers. 20 year old Caucasian male, two bullets through the eye. Lot of blood. A shoe print left on a corner of the carpet. Not a lot to go on with for the BPD, except, of course, if you find the gun that killed him."

Tony didn't need to look up to know that Lorenzo's eyes had found his own gun on the table behind the _capo_. He smiled and went on with his files, taking them one after the other, giving names, years, and all the evidence that had gone missing or that was never found to catch the culprit. Quickly, it was made evident that Tony knew exactly who said culprit was, and how to prove it in court too. Slowly, he went back in time, his voice never wavering as he read cases more terrible each time.

"You would never pinch me. Everyone will turn against you here when they realize you really play for the cops. You'd be dead within days," Lorenzo said calmly enough at the end of the enumeration.

"You mean like I'm dead because I'm actually _working_ in a Federal Agency?" Tony asked, raising a supposedly perplexed eyebrow with a sly smile.

"What the fuck kind of game are you playing?"

"For it to be a game, Lorenzo, you'd have to have a chance to win." Tony took the time to put the files back in the leather case and looked back up at Lorenzo, finding his eyes and locking them to his. "Look at me, Anconetti. You think I am going to play _games_ with you? You think I am going to let you play with my head? You send your man to my partner to try and screw with me? You think I'm going to enter that dance with you?"

Lorenzo's eyes strayed away, to the man on the ground next to him that seemed in bad shape and on Alceo guarding the doors.

**"Look** at my face when I tell you this. Today, just like tomorrow and every day after that, _**I**_ own you. When I talk to you, you look down. When I tell you to do something, you obey. _You_ obey _me_. I don't care if you don't like me. You will learn your place or I swear I won't hesitate a _second_ to bring you down hard. You'll lose everything. Your family will forget your name, and you will end your life rotting in a prison where I'll put a 24hour surveillance on your ass just to make sure you can never even try to _kill yourself_."

Anconetti's eyes snapped up at Tony, surprised by the harshness and the tone, so very cold and lethal he barely believed it was really Tonio talking to him.

"Yes, Lorenzo. Look at my face, and see if I'm playing now."

.

.

Tony was taking a walk by the docks, looking at people working or just hanging out. The area had lost the glory it had held a decade or two back, but it was still buzzing with the activity of workers trying to earn enough to bring food on the table. Most of them were seasonal workers, which was partly the reason why Tony hated the cases they found in such areas. He could spot a few faces scrutinizing him as he walked idly about with no purpose. He had gotten out of the hangar to let Lorenzo's men take their boss out of there. He didn't like dealing with such business. He gladly let the _goombahs_ take care of everything that could possibly dirty his hands. Well, almost everything.

He felt his phone buzzing in his pocket and smiled darkly, making a couple of men looking at him from afar lower their gazes.

He had already been walking back to the hangar, so he didn't take long to arrive after he read Alceo's text telling him it was all done. When he arrived, he was pleased to see the radical change of scenery. The only men there were his. Lorenzo's guys had cleared out of the place, leaving the Agnesini brothers casually guarding the doors instead. Tonio congratulated them internally, they were way more inconspicuous then the men that had been there before. They didn't look any different from the people he had seen during his walk.

He entered the hangar and found Alceo and Febo hovering around the man they had brought him. The one that had broken in Ziva's apartment. There were no traces of Lorenzo, his goons had taken him and fled, leaving their other man behind.

Once again, Tonio waved Febo out, and Alceo followed him to close the doors and stand guard from inside.

"What's your name again?" Tonio asked with his back to the man now sitting on the stiff chair Lorenzo had been on. There was no answer, but Tony didn't press on, facing the table on which he had laid the evidence before, he now took his time taking his watch off his wrist and loosening his tie before he turned and repeated the question casually.

"Mike," the man said between ground teeth, still lowering his head. His long hair made a curtain hiding his face, so when Tony approached, he grabbed the hair behind the neck of the man and pulled down, making his head jerk back.

"Hello Mike, I'm Antonio," he introduced himself, talking directly to the man's face from above. "Keep answering my questions and you'll be fine. What were you doing at my friend's place?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Wrong answer."

In on swift but violent motion, Tony's feet smashed the chair legs, making it lose its already precarious balance and sending Mike crashing on his back. Tony hadn't let go of his hair though, and only his hold prevented the man's head from banging the floor. Whimpering, Mike tried to sit back but his cuffed hands made it impossible. His wince worsened as Tonio squatted behind him and grabbed his jaw with his free hand.

"Don't make me repeat my question."

"I just had to mess with her things. Enough to let her know someone's been there so she would tell- and you'd know -"

"Know what?" Tony asked the man whose eyes were clenched in a grimace of pain. The fall on the now upended chair must have hurt some, and Tony had yet to let go of Mike's hair and face.

"I don't know! That we were watching you. That we could hurt your friends. You already know '_what'_! "

Mike had no use lying and he probably knew it. He'd witnessed Lorenzo's situation and he thus knew that Tony was aware of everything.

"Yeah, I know _what_. And how do you think you did? Were you good in your mission? Do you think I got the message now?" Tony asked sarcastically in a low, creeping voice.

Mike didn't answer right away, his breathing shallow and face white, he barely dared open his eyes to find the dangerous ones of his interrogator.

"Yes," he said when he finally gathered the strength to do so. He immediately closed his eyes, expecting a punch. Instead, Tonio released his hold, wiped the other man's sweat off his fingers on Mike's shirt and got up.

Signaling to Alceo to come bring the man to his feet, Tonio went to the table and started gathering his things to leave. Mike was barely on his feet, getting his hands uncuffed when Antonio turned to face him one last time.

"You and your friends know I'm an agent, right?"

Mike nodded, his eyes dark as he still hadn't lost that spark of defiance that came with his pride.

"Good. Now maybe you should realize I'm way more than that."

Mike had barely had the time to give a hint of a frown of incomprehension when Alceo's hand came crashing against his nose, sending him back on his back with a yelp.

"Now we can leave," Tonio said smiling as he fastened his tie back and gave Alceo his briefcase. Together, they walked away without a last look to the man whimpering on the ground with both hands on his now broken face.

.

.

It had taken fourteen minutes for Tony to call Elena and join her. He let her take Alceo's place behind the wheel and after they dropped the second in command to the mansion, they headed to Washington. Thanks to Tony's directions, Elena found the way to Ducky's house without problems, and she was already at the door, ringing the bell, before Tony could open the car door on his side. He was lucky she had been in town when he had finished his business with Lorenzo and Mike. He had dialed her number and when she'd picked up, he had only uttered three words before she was giving him directions to where she was and how to find her. Yup. Just three words. _I need help._

.

He should probably have taken better care of his wound. All the walking around hadn't helped, but he'd felt the first tearing in his back when he squatted down before Lorenzo. Kicking Mike's chair and following him to the ground to keep his head from smashing into it just made it worse. Tss. He should have let that man have a concussion instead. Now he was probably going to be thoroughly lectured by the good old doctor before being sent to the hospital for complementary exams.

Tony couldn't help but smile from his seat in the car at the face Ducky made when he opened the door to Elena Filangieri. The M.E had probably just got back himself, as he still wore his classic trench coat. Tony couldn't hear what his two friends were saying, but he saw Ducky's eyes going from Elena to himself, as understanding dawned. He hurried inside and Elena came back to Tony's to help him climb the few porch steps and enter Dr. Mallard's old house.

.

.

Tony was dozing off, lying on his stomach on the couch of Ducky's living room when Elena finally smiled at the doctor she knew was observing her when his attention wasn't called by the wounded.

"You seem perplexed, Dr. Mallard," she said as she leant to take the glass of iced tea their host had brought a few minutes earlier.

"Please, call me Ducky. And yes, I suppose I can't deny I am. I have heard a lot of things about your character, Miss Filangieri, and I can't help but wonder how many of them are true."

"I guess it's not my character per say but my relation to Tony that puzzles you the most," she asked, amused by the older man's frankness.

"Well, I thought you were in charge of gathering the information," Ducky said as if it answered everything.

"I am," she said and took a long pause, slightly frowning as she wondered what he wanted to know. "Ah, you must find it surprising that I don't seem upset. After all, I never suspected Tony was undercover when it's exactly what I'm supposed to do," Elena guessed without losing her smile.

"I admit I did think it strange that you didn't seem to hold any kind of grudge, yes."

"He _is_ my biggest failure, no doubt."

"And yet here you are," Ducky noted as he put some order in the first aid kit he had taken out for Tony.

"Yes, here I am. I learn from my mistakes, Dr. Ducky, and never make them twice."

Ducky didn't budge though he could perceive the danger hiding behind that simple sentence.

"So you know what our boy is up to, then," he declared with a questioning tone. Surprisingly enough, that made Elena laugh. It didn't even seem forced. She was genuinely amused.

"Oh no, I certainly don't," she corrected right away. Then, regaining composure, she added with a depth that Ducky couldn't fail to notice, "The thing is, I know he has a plan. And that's enough."

"You trust him," the doctor realized.

Elena smiled and took a sip before she answered. "We have a saying, in my family. _Fidarsi è bene, non fidarsi è meglio_. To trust is good, not to trust is better."

"So you trust him", Ducky repeated, unfazed.

"I trust his strength," Elena admitted, shrugging.

"Ah, well I guess that's where we differ," the ME said, nodding to himself and zipping up the first aid kit before he stood up to put it away.

Elena raised an eyebrow, questioning his last statement as she knew Ducky couldn't just be telling her that he didn't trust Tony. She didn't have to wait long before he stopped mid-walk and turned to find her eyes. Smiling softly, he looked once at the sleeping man on his couch before completing his thought.

"Because I, Miss. Filangieri, trust his soul."

.

.

.

When he stopped the car, Tony let his phone fall on his lap before he leant forward to have a look at Ziva's building. Counting in his head, he found the lit window he was looking for and waited until he saw his partner pass the window a first time, still dressed as if she was just back from work. Tony checked his watch. It was past midnight. He had woken up at Ducky's not an hour earlier, Elena was already gone and Ducky just asked him to be careful not to reopen his wound, knowing full well Tony wouldn't accept to stay at the older man's place for the night. He didn't have to wait ten minutes for the phone on his lap to start ringing. Tony smiled and picked up, leaning back on his seat.

"_You know I can see your car, right?_" the voice on the phone asked.

Her voice was strong and unwavering as usual, but Tony didn't like what he got from it anyway. Call it a bad feeling.

"I've been here an hour and you're just finding that out now?"

"_Come on, Tony, we both know you've just arrived_."

"Tss, you're so sure of yourself. It's late, go to bed," Tony ordered as he himself stifled a yawn.

Ziva didn't answer right away, letting silence stretch but not uncomfortably so.

"_Why are you here?_" she asked softly.

Tony could imagine her peering out the window, staring at his car as if she could actually see his face.

"You know why I'm here, Ziva," Tony answered just as softly. "I got your six. You can go to bed now."

There was another long silence, and a sigh on the other end of the line.

"_Get out of the car_," she just said before hanging up. Tony frowned a second but obeyed, locking the car behind him. The buzzing entry phone let him know Ziva was granting him access to the building.

.

Tony knew he'd been right when she opened the door. She was standing with all the self-confidence she always harbored in her body language, but something was definitely off. Maybe it was the shadows under her eyes. Maybe it was her second gun still at her ankle when taking it off was usually the first thing she did when she came home.

"I thought you were not in town," she said as she let him in.

There wasn't any disappointment or hurt in her tone, but Tony knew she was making an effort to say it casually, and it meant a lot more than any harsh words could, from her. Ziva wasn't the kind to voice such feelings. She had been trained to not _feel_ them in the first place. She had been trained not to expect anything from anyone. It had taken her years to feel really comfortable enough in the trust she couldn't help but feel toward her colleagues. It had taken years for her to realize that it was _normal_ to _expect_ friendship, support in hard times and a shoulder to cry on. She rarely ever used it, but she had come to expect it to be there. Tony knew this. He had seen it happen before his very eyes. The transformation from Officer Ziva David from Mossad to Special Agent David, Gibbs's latest recruit. The fact that she was keeping her tone in check meant two things in Tony's eyes: first, she did expect him to come running to help with the case first thing after McGee's call. His absence had been a low blow, no doubt. Second, she reversted to her old habit of hiding what she thought, not because she was bitter, but probably because something in her still told her that it was normal to be disappointed when you let yourself hope silly things. Mossad was good at engraining things like that in your head, apparently. And there, with Mossad, she would have been right. In Gibbs's team, she couldn't be more wrong.

The first thing Tony did was wash away every false idea she could have by giving her a hug. Not an Abby-bear-hug nor a manly one-armed one, a Tony-and-Ziva-hug. There hadn't been a lot of them, but there had been enough.

"I'm okay, he didn't even try to attack me," she reasoned in the hollow of her shoulder.

"I know," he said as he released her and demanded a beer.

She nodded with a smile and went to the kitchen, waving with her hand to let him know to make himself home. Tony obliged, diving into the comfy couch he always chose when at her place. She came back with two bottles of water. She threw one at him.

"You shouldn't mix alcohol with your meds."

He opened his mouth to protest or deny, but realized he still stunk of the antiseptic Ducky had tended his wounds with so she must have guessed he had been to some kind of doctor at one point or another. He just shook his head softly, amused, and tilted his bottle toward her before he took a sip.

"He didn't even approach me, don't worry," Ziva said again, answering no actual question.

Tony nodded silently, observing the rest of the room. Ziva's apartment was not as pristine as usual, he noted. There were magazines by the window, and a chair had been pushed by said window. Sitting there would let her be out of sight of potential snipers but still close enough to see the street. The TV was on but mute, and she had obviously not been paying any attention to it as there was an awful teen movie of the 90s playing, and Tony could just not believe she was watching that. Of what he could see of the bedroom, which door was ajar, the shutters were tightly closed.

"It's not them, Ziva. I promise," he said when his eyes found their way back to her face. She was looking straight at him, as she always did, but didn't say anything. "Saleem has a bullet in his brain, and his men are either dead or running away."

"I never said -" Ziva began to deny, but Tony didn't let her.

"It's not them. Not even close."

He got up then, and drew closer. Squatting down before he thought it through, he couldn't help the wince from his face at the pain in his back. He took the time to hold Ziva's ankle and pass a hand under the right leg of her large pants anyway. The back-up gun was there, and Tony simply unfastened the ankle holster before he put the gun on the coffee table and straightened back up on his legs, wincing again at the stretch on his wound.

"Here you go, Zee-vah. Now to your bed for a good night of sleep, with the best agent of NCIS on your six."

"What? Gibbs is here too?" she feigned looking around as if surprised, and Tony mocked hurt as he gently pushed her to her bedroom.

"Don't make me come in here and take your clothes off to get you into your pajamas, you know I'd do it!" He said laughingly as she tried to resist his directions.

"You know I sleep in the nude, Tony."

That had Tony stop and consider her for a humorous moment, before shaking his head over dramatically as if to make the picture he had in his head go away. She chuckled at his antics and didn't protest anymore.

A few minutes later she was back in the living room in a large I Heart NY t-shirt and a boy short with pink skulls dancing on it that Tony knew for a fact they were Abby's. She went to the door, locking it and putting the key in the bowl on the next table before she walked to Tony (who was trying to make up stupid dialogues for the teens crying on soundless TV) and kissed his temple in a soft gesture that was so unlike Agent David but so like Ziva that Tony smiled at her and shook his head, dismissing the silent thank you she was giving him.

"You know what to do when you want to sleep," she told him as she went back to her room. He nodded. Since Paris, he'd known there was no use preparing the couch, he could just go crash in her bed if he was too tired.

"I'm not really tired though, and I don't have to go to work tomorrow, so you might just find me awake when you wake up," he told her without really losing sight of the TV.

He knew she'd understand he was telling her that he was standing guard for her to rest. She nodded silently and was about to close the door behind her when she opened it back and just stared for a few seconds. Turning to look at her, Tony raised an eyebrow in question before focusing back on the TV, finally switching channels.

"How do you know it's not them?" She asked, still staring.

He spared her another glance and shrugged.

"You know it's not them either, they have nothing to do here, they're wanted by both the police and other terrorists cells that weren't too happy with Saleem's personal vendetta. You know that."

"That's not what I meant," she said, her eyes burning into the side of his face. She had that tone she sometimes used in the bullpen when she made a connection in regards a case.

"I know," he answered without seemingly paying much attention, so focused he was on finding a good channel.

"Is that how you hurt yourself?" she asked, having naturally noticed the flinching when he moved around.

"Yup," he said with the shadow of a smile playing on his lips.

"Is the man-"

"Trust me, Ziva," Tony said, turning to lock eyes with her for the first time.

" I do."

And she went to sleep, not once waking from her nightmare-free slumber.

.

When Ziva walked out of her bedroom in the morning, Tony was in the kitchen, coffee mug in hand and breakfast laid on the table. He had thought about making a trip to the coffee shop and bakery down the street to surprise his partner, but he preferred for her not to think he would leave her alone even for ten minutes when he had promised he'd have her back.

Ziva's eyes widened at the sight and something seemed to ease off her shoulders, a small smile playing on her lips as she sat on a chair and reached for a toast. She didn't comment on how Tony had remembered every detail of her preferences, down to which jam she liked best. She raised and eyebrow when he didn't join her, and he waved a hand in answer.

"I'm going to head home now."

"Are you sure you don't want to rest before you drive?"

"Com'on Zee, I've been working with Gibbs for close to ten years, I think I learnt how to survive with not enough sleep in my system."

She accepted his answer with a shrug, and even though she didn't say anything when he slipped out of the room, he read the gratitude in her eyes, and it was enough.

.

.

He couldn't help the sight of contentment that left his lips as he entered his own apartment. He may have been away only for a short time, he had missed the place he'd come to call home. He threw the keys on the coffee table in the living room and walked straight to the bedroom to get his jacket off and put away the small bag of clothes he'd brought with him to Baltimore.

Then walking to the kitchen to fetch some water, he stopped short as he opened the door and a heavy weight plummeted down his chest. His hand fell off the knob and he just stood there, staring at the box of pizza and open can of beer near the sink. They hadn't been there when he'd left for Baltimore. He didn't need to check to know there was the rest of a six pack in his fridge. He didn't need to open the box to know which kind of pizza had been left there, probably hours earlier. It was his favourite. Pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese. Gibbs always remembered.

Finally remembering how to walk, Tony went to the box and opened it. Two slices had been eaten, but the rest was there, cold. Taking a slice despite how rigid he felt it was, Tony brought it to his mouth and took a bite. He was used to cold pizzas eaten the mornings after allnighters, but even he couldn't eat this. Spitting it in the sink, he threw the slice in the box and stared at it again.

It had started a few weeks after he'd joined Gibbs at NCIS. They were still a two men team then. It had been his first trip to the hospital. A suspect trying to run away, classic. He'd had a concussion, and the doctors hadn't wanted to let him leave unsupervised. Tony had put up a fight. "_I wouldn't spend the night here even if I had the damn plague_". Gibbs had ended up agreeing to keep an eye on _the kid_ during the night just to shut him up. They'd gone to Tony's old apartment. First time Gibbs was invited there too. He had ordered a pizza from a little place just across the street and had thrown it before Tony, ordering him _eat_ when Tony had been saying he wanted to puke. Of course, Tony had eaten, complaining all the while about the lack of cheese and, seriously, who could eat anchovy? Pepperoni, sausage and extra cheese, that's the real deal, he'd said. Hadn't had to repeat himself once since.

Every time he got himself a ticket to the hospital. _Every_ _time_. Even if he ended up having nothing serious. He'd go home and a few hours later, and Gibbs would let himself in with a box of pizza, and a six pack if Tony had no heavy meds to take.

Every time for nearly ten years.

Tony closed his eyes as he leant forth and let his forehead rest against the high cupboard hanging over the sink. He could just imagine it.

He hadn't _seen_ Gibbs during his stay at the hospital this time, but he knew his boss had been there, probably during the night too if he was to trust the empty cups of coffee he found when he woke up after the surgery. Gibbs had probably known when Tony was to be released. Tony frowned as the pain of his wound seemed to wake up, but in his chest.

He could just _see _it. Gibbs with the pizza and beer in one hand, opening the door to Tony's apartment with the other. He probably went directly to the kitchen when he saw no one in the living room, put the package there and walked to the room to check if his SFA was asleep. Except Tony hadn't been there. He'd been in another city. In another's home. Carmine's.

Tony's eyes shot open and he violently slapped the box shut and threw the whole thing in the sink, slamming his hand on the edge as he cursed the pain in his chest.

Gibbs hadn't even left then. No. He had sat at the table, Tony knew. He had maybe even turned the TV on as he always did when he arrived. Found a black and white western or something and put it on mute, opened the box, and took his first slice. But Gibbs always took three slices. Always. Tony had even joked once about the robot in him needing an exact amount of human food to survive. So he had started eating, waited, ate some more, but he hadn't finished. Maybe he couldn't put up with the silence in the room. The lack of running commentary about the movie or game on. The utter emptiness that was that apartment without his owner.

So he had taken what was left, put it in the kitchen, and left. Leaving everything exactly as he'd found it, except for that box, and that can. As Tony stared at them, he felt they were the more ostentatious things in the world. They couldn't have been more obvious if neon signs pointed at them. He hated them with all his guts.

His phone rung then, calling him back from his thoughts.

"Hello," he said, his voice low and rusty. He hadn't checked the id.

"_Antonio, we have a situation. I think men from the Matteras are following Febo and I. Not Alonzo's men, his brother's._"

It was Alceo, going straight to the point. And if Alceo thought he was being followed, he probably really was.

"_Tonio? Are you there?_"

Tony didn't answer, his eyes finding their way back to what was now in the sink.

"_Capo?" _Alceo's voice called in the phone.

A flash of Gibbs looking a last time at the dark room he was living before closing Tony's apartment door popped in Tonio's mind and the weight in his chest seemed heavier. _Choices_, he remembered the voice of Carmine now. _They're never easy, but you have to hold on to the ones you make. Till the very end. No regrets, Tonio. Never. _It had been one of the first things Carmine had told the young undercover soldier that Tony had been then. The ex Baltimore cop would never have thought these words would come back to him so many years later.

"_Si_, Alceo._ Sono qui. Completamente_."

Yes, Alceo. I'm here. Completely.

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><p>.<p>

I want to know everything you thought, I've missed you guys' opinions. I think I'm gonna keep doing the **statistics** thing too. Ah, stupid question I asked myself last night: **are there more women than men reading this? I sincerely wondered.** Think the answer's yes. Is it because of the sex appeal of our Tony? :D

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Lorenzo/mike, Alceo/Febo, Ducky/Elena, Ziva, Gibbs... You can't tell me you didn't think anything about all the interactions here. Even if you hated it, I can take it, promise.

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Do you notice how things are starting to move? Tony's position in two worlds becoming one? He did, after all, admit long ago that there were no "2 different Tonys". There is only the one, complex as he is. So can we really say that there really are two different worlds?


	17. Chapter 17

Hello everyone. First **let me warn you, this chapter is **_**long**_** and it covers a lot of ground (my beta's words, actually) but I hope that the previous chapters have been readying you for every piece of it, and that you'll find it exciting instead of boring or tedious.**

I also had a lot of fun reading your reviews -which made me want to write non-stop instead of studying.

I'm happy to announce that there is at least one man reading this story, which I count as a feat. I myself am a woman, and so is the majority of the readers of HTF. I think.

I'm also happy to see that you like the original characters of the story. Some even prefer Elena/Tony to Tiva.

Everyone has different favourite couple of characters in the last chapter. I'm glad you liked the Ducky-Elena, I thought it would be interesting putting them together once. In the chapter you're about to read, the interactions are always between _Tony_ and someone else (or actually, _everyone_ else).

I'm very proud every time I read your hypotheses on what's to come. To me, they mean that you care enough to really think about it, it means that you're involved too. I love it. Especially since some of you are really spot on, which means the story does convey what I want it to.

**Oh, and remember when I told you things were slow because they were laying the ground for the real stuff? Well this is it, folks. The real stuff. **

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An **_outfit _**is a family which claims sovereignty over a territory, or the territory in question.

The **_Commission _**is formed by all the families in the region.

**_Stronzo_**, is an insult, obviously.

Thank you **Deborah**, for your help and comments. They help me get things straight in my head and I don't quite know how I functioned without you before.

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><p><strong>.<strong>

It was a good thing that Benito Mattera, Alfonso's elder brother, had someone following Tonio's men. It meant that his plan was working. He told Alceo to act as if he hadn't noticed but to let Carmine know. He knew the Father was coming to Washington in the afternoon. He had planned to have the meetings necessary to the success of their plan as soon as possible. He'd probably meet him in the morrow if Carmine made some progress with the deals. After his talk with Alceo, Tony dragged himself to his room and crashed onto the bed, not bothering to take his shoes off. Fortunately, he didn't have the strength to think. He was out in seconds.

He woke up in the middle of the afternoon with his phone buzzing. Elena.

"'Where did you spend the night?" he asked, because saying hello was too mainstream.

He stretched and rubbed his face lazily as he shifted on his back. She didn't acknowledge the intrusiveness of the question, probably knowing it was asked out of curiosity rather than need for control.

"_Didn't sleep yet, had some business to finish. Are you aware that your men are being followed in Baltimore_?"

Tony chuckled, leave it to Elena to know everything, even about soldiers that had nothing to do with her.

"Yes, 'lena," he grumbled still a bit sleepy but determined to rise from bed, he shook his head, "Benito Mattera's men, apparently."

"_That's not what I'm referring to, Tonio, I knew Alceo already informed you about that._"

Of course she did, Tony thought with a smile as he reached for the glass of water on the bedside table.

"So who's following who exactly?" he asked casually, as if this kind of thing happened all the time. And actually, in this world, they did.

"_I don't know who is doing the following, but Lorenzo's apparently the target."_

" Lorenzo's not my man."

"_Technically, they are all yours_," she mocked and he rolled his eyes. "_Anyway, grey Ford Focus, I'll be sending you the plate later_."

"Grazie," he sighed, and imagined her tilting her head in response.

They hung up at the same time.

He spent the rest of the day at home. He started by catching up on what the MCRT was doing thanks to Abby. She had sent him seven emails since his release from the hospital, and he was just now checking his professional inbox. Three of said emails were simple but heart-wrenching "_Where are you?_", _"Why aren't you with Ziva and the team_?", "_We're not okay without you here_."

When Tony's eyes had read the words and checked for the date (basically the hours after McGee called to let him know about the break-in at Ziva's) he'd felt his chest constrict in that way he was getting familiar with. It was the same feeling he'd had when McGee had asked him if he was really not coming with that shocked tone that meant he thought Tony would already be in the car driving to his team. The same feeling that had made him freeze when he found that damned pizza box in his kitchen. The feeling that meant that everything was upside down because everything had changed. And Gibbs had rubbed on Tony so much these last few years that now change made Tony's chest ache as if he'd been shot there instead of in the back. Except that change wasn't always bad. It maybe felt like ripping something deep inside sometimes, but it didn't mean it was wrong. Not if it was guided by choices. Not if these choices felt right and natural too. The transition was hard, but it was necessary. It was for the greatest good, and who cared whether he belonged to the greatest or not?

Abby had apparently calmed down after the third email, the fourth being an update on what was happening. Well, at least Tony had _thought_ she'd calmed down at first.

"_I don't know where you are or what you're doing but I know you (whatever you may think, I really do) enough to be sure you'll be wondering about us. So here what's happening here: Ziva is quiet but I can see in her eyes and in her posture that she's thinking some scary thoughts. I have no idea what she's seeing when she closes her eyes, but each time I manage to convince her (or Gibbs orders her) to rest for a moment on my futon, she wakes up stiff and looks even more tired. And no, it's not because she's basically trying to sleep on the floor, she's not a wuss like McGee can be, she actually sleeps fine there usually. I even turned the music off and dimmed the lights, but I think it made it worse because she just got up and left when I did. I tried to tell Gibbs but he had nothing to tell me. __**You**__ would have known what was in her head Tony. Even Gibbs thinks so. I know __because he was staring at your desk when I was telling him. But no no no, I'm not supposed to whine about you not being here. I've been ordered to keep it together and you know I'm trying hard. I'm still squeezing Bert super tight right now and I imagine I'm hugging you. Can you feel it? I'm still working on my telepathy tricks, but I'm getting closer. _

_Gibbs has been riding Tim's you-know-what all day and I feel like it's not gonna end before we find the man that broke into Ziva's apartment. There was a meeting with Director Vance at one point, and there's been some yelling. I know because Betsy was chatting with Cynthia at her desk and heard everything. Then she told Jamie who told Margareth and well, you know Margareth, she couldn't hold her tongue. I think Gibbs didn't like when Director Vance said that the case was in no way urgent and that Gibbs should let the team go home instead of keeping us up all night again. _

_Poor McGee looks exhausted, but I don't think he would go home even if he was asked to. He flipped when he heard about Ziva's aggression, even if she told us ten million times it wasn't an aggression. I think it's because he's not used to handling anything that big on his own. I mean, there's still Gibbs and the rest of us, sure, but there's usually someone else that keeps us all strong when something like that happens to one of us. And that person's usually the one that keeps us sane, you know. _

_See how I'm trying extra-hard not to say it's you that we need? Each time I've seen Gibbs snap in the bullpen, Tim looked at your desk. I left before I could start thinking about how not there you were. _

_Palmer is trying to be you in his own way. It's hard to watch because Gibbs is one wedding-related anecdote away from snapping Jimmy's neck. I know because I heard him warn Ducky. _

_Ducky thinks Ziva's ordeal would never have blown to such proportions and gotten on everyone's nerves so much if we were not already mentally on edge because of other circumstances. He didn't complete his thought because Gibbs just left the lab mid-sentence. Ducky left too, and now I'm alone and sending you this update. _

_Please, be alright_."

Tony would have shut (or thrown) his computer right away if his eyes hadn't caught the titles of the three messages from Abby he hadn't read yet. They were all from various moments that very day, and were called "Case". Each one was a few words long with attached documents related to the case they had taken (apparently, they had been forced into it by Vance, who couldn't let the research for the man in Ziva's apartment go any longer with no evidence). There was also a small note about how Ziva seemed much better, and "_maybe it really was just the futon, and she could actually rest better at her place last night." _Apparently, Gibbs still looked pissed, but he had been since the day Tony was sent to the hospital, so it wasn't news.

Tony read the information about the case with interest, making some notes on the notebook he always carried about at work, and then turned to another kind of case. One with a lot less strings to the police.

He reviewed the information Elena had gotten him on the two other families well-known in the Baltimore area. He knew them, had even already met some of their members when Carmine had thrown soirees and galas back when Tony was undercover. But this time he needed more. He had to study them. It was basically the project he'd thrown himself into since the day he'd realized he'd have to take care of the Matteras. Now, he knew a lot more about both the Pironis and the Orlanduccis, like where their strengths and weaknesses lay, how to bring them down or make them shine, what kind of men led them, the relation they had always had with each other and with the Achenzas or Matteras. Yes, he knew a lot. He even had the turnovers of most of their illicit activities. Elena was so good at finding information that he probably had more data than their own Capo. But what he wanted, no, _needed_ to know was a lot more specific.

He needed to discover how to get to the strings that would make them dance for him. He wanted to know what _they_ wanted, what _they_ needed enough to be ready to sell their souls. Of course, they wouldn't be realizing they were. They'd just think they were making a deal, but Tony knew better. If they ever sealed a deal with Carmine Achenza, whatever the contract, it meant they were his.

.

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Abby kept sending him emails on the progress of their current case, and predicted a long night again because Gibbs was like a dog with a bone. Tony knew as well as Abby that it wasn't really because of that particular case, but a lot had piled up for Gibbs. He chose not to dwell on this thought because he was still too acutely aware of the pizza box in his kitchen and he still hated it. He did feel a bit guilty as he thought of what his team was probably put through because of the circumstances of his absence. Plus, working with a man down was never easy. So when an idea popped in his mind while he was cooking a simple dinner for two, he didn't hesitate long before taking his phone to compose a short text to McGee: "_Check the wife's private bank account._" He sent, but then, as he poured the tomato in the casserole, he realized that he was always accusing the wife, and that McGee could think he was joking, sending him a message on a case he was not even supposed to know about. And Tony knew the team had already checked the wife to some extent, so he sent another text after a while : "_I'm serious, maybe an account under her maiden name_." He hated texting, mostly because he took too long to write such short messages, but also because the auto-correct never guessed right and the tactile screens drove him crazy. After sending the second one, he remembered another detail that could help, but considering the phone again, Tony ended up making a face and turning back to his casserole.

.

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Elena found him singing Italian traditional songs in the kitchen when she let herself in, and joined him with plastic take out bags in her hands, showing them to her with a small smile.

"I thought you'd be dead in bed when I arrived, so I bought these from the Chinese restaurant at the corner," she explained.

"Put that away, woman, you're insulting me," Tony yelled indignantly.

"Oh, excuse me, I didn't know you had put so much effort in -" she took a look at what Tony was doing and smiled, "- spaghetti bolognese! I know how hard it is to make such an elaborate dish, I shall never underestimate your talents again," she said with over dramatic airs that suited her.

Tony laughed and she finally put the bags in the fridge before going to stand next to him and offer her help.

The talked and cooked easily, laughing and mocking each other softly before going to the dinner table that Elena had laid. The conversation slid toward Baltimore and the family, Elena asking what he had done about the information she'd given him earlier, and Tony telling her how he had put the Agnesini brothers on it. She nodded and they talked about Lorenzo. There was a bittersweet taste in Tony's mouth when Elena asked him casually if he'd had news from him since their little stunt by the docks. Of course she would know about that. Hell, she probably even knew what they'd said word for word. That's when the question Tony hadn't even known was perturbing him slipped his lips:

"Lorenzo said something unusual. He put the words _death_ and _Carmine_ in the same sentence."

"Well, Carmine is mortal too, you know," Elena said with a smile, but Tony could see she found it strange too.

"So you don't know about ... anything?" Tony asked, just to make sure.

"I would know if there was anything."

"Not if you didn't know there was anything to look for," he insisted, holding her eyes. She stared for several seconds, seemingly considering the option in her head, and tilted her head sideways as if to concede the point. Tony had no doubt she would be on the case by morning. She eyed her phone a second, but Tony shook his head.

"You didn't sleep last night, you're not working tonight."

She raised an eyebrow at the order, but more amused than indignant. He smiled his usual crooked smile at her, and for a moment they both thought maybe they wouldn't take the time to rest that night either. Tony read the twinkle in her eyes, the way she arched her back and touched her neck but fought against his every instinct and shook his head again.

"You have to sleep," he said, his voice suddenly huskier than seconds earlier. She chuckled and he cleared his throat discretely to regain some composure. He would have loosened his tie was he not wearing casual clothes.

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Tony woke up with a start, and though his body barely moved, he was internally gasping for air, his heart pounding hard in his chest. He was tense as he stared at his ceiling not daring to blink. Finally managing to let go of some of the tension seizing his muscles, he passed a hand through his hair. He was sweating and he just knew he was probably as white as the sheets he slept in. Quelling the panic that had arisen in his dream, he tried to keep breathing evenly not to raise Elena's suspicion. He knew she was awake. She hadn't talked nor moved, but he just knew. His dream was already fading from his memory, but the dark feeling lingered. He felt like he'd been swallowed in a blackhole and had had to fight to extricate himself from it. Except that he hadn't had to _physically_ fight in his dream. He remembered Gibbs's face so clearly. And Father's. His team, Elena and Cesca. He thought other faces crossed that dream too, but when he tried to recall any of them, he could only see shapes through a mist, and they vanished when he tried to put a face on them. He hated dreams. He always remembered just enough for them to make him uneasy but no enough as to know why. The feeling of urgency that had ruled his dreams was still there though, pumping in his veins and making his heart do crazy things. He felt the weight of an arm on his hip and tried to relax.

He felt movement then, and before he could look at her, Elena had reached out for the glass of water always on his bedside table and gave it to him. He sipped from it, smiling at the simple gesture or more exactly at how natural it felt. Then he felt her hand travel up his chest and rest on his heart, still beating too fast and too hard. With her other hand, she took one of his and put it on her stomach, then made it slide up until it was resting on her own chest. Her skin was soft and warm, and the beating under his palm was steady. She kept her hand on his, and waited, until both heartbeats shared the same rhythm.

Tony knew she wouldn't ask the question, but he talked nonetheless:

"I dreamt … a dream tonight," he said, not knowing what to say as the flashes in his head didn't seem to make any sense any more.

"Oh, so did I," she interrupted him, and Tony took a few seconds before realizing what she was doing. He smiled, and played along, remembering the Shakespearian words.

"And what was yours?"

"That dreamers often lie."

He shifted in the bed, turning on his side to face her. Her body was angled toward him and she was looking at him in the night, the few moonbeams peaking through the curtains making a glint shine in her eyes.

"Well, we are both certainly lying in bed right now," he said, choosing the meaning he preferred for her last line. She laughed in delight before meeting his lips with hers halfway. His hand was still on her chest, and he felt both their heartbeats pick up. This time, it didn't bother him so much.

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His arm bent behind his head, Tony couldn't help but laugh. Elena, at his side, hadn't done or said anything funny, but he really couldn't help it.

"That was fucking incredible," he muttered to himself.

He never swore in presence of a lady either, but he really didn't feel like himself just then. He passed a hand through his hair, trying to come back to Earth, but his smile just widened as Elena -still coming down from her high- moaned appreciatively, making his body react instinctively, and draw her closer.

"You know what," the woman lying in bed with him said, still looking at the ceiling and breathing a bit too quickly, "I think we both know something."

"Yeah, what's that?" he asked, trying very hard to focus on her words and not her chest going up and down in her attempt at recovering her breath.

"You and I. _Insieme, siamo perfett_i."

Had it been another woman, in another life, Tony would have probably made a teasing comment about how she had gone soft over the years. But Elena was not the type to say anything romantic. He knew that when she murmured "Together, we are perfect" in his ear, she actually thought it was true. Not in a purely sentimental way. Not even just sexually. It meant that together, they worked.

And Tony could see it. His life with her. She'd always be there, standing tall and beautiful, by his side. But not as an eye-candy at his arm. No. She could hold her own, smart and lethal as she was. He could see the both of them teasing, fighting for control, challenging each other everyday. And life would be hot and interesting. He would have passion and intellectual stimulation. Because he knew that together, dust would never have time to settle. He briefly remembered the picture they had taken - once upon a time - at the cocktail party Carmine had thrown to celebrate a deal with new buyers. They were both staring at the camera, but his hand was at the small of her back, his fingers drawing burning circles on her skin, and she was holding his other arm with her body angled towards his, leaving a magnificent view of her unveiled back. There were people around them but they had faded in the background. Leaving only two people with piercing eyes and half-smiles. They were young, beautiful and exuding power. And they could probably be like that for the rest of their lives. He knew she was right. They could be great together. They could be perfection.

"I know," he said with a small smile.

She nodded again and stretched her hand to fetch a large t-shirt of his crumpled on the floor. She was about to slip it on when he caught her hand to stop her.

"Please, don't be so cruel," he murmured, his face drawing closer to her neck. She laughed and asked why, but he just took the t-shirt and threw it away behind him. "Don't blind my eyes like that," he added before he kissed her collarbone. She rolled her eyes and _tsk-ed _but didn't stop him.

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He arrived at _the Restaurant_ before Carmine. The owner, a tall, strong man that seemed 40 when he was 65, recognized him right away and cleared him a table in a VIP corner without the usual fuss displayed to welcome customers. He'd been waiting for less than five minutes when Tonio looked up to find Alceo walking in, screening the restaurant with his eyes and going to the bathroom and back just to make sure it was safe, before he got out again and came back a few seconds later with Father. Alceo and Febo had accompanied Carmine as a measure of additional protection, and Tony nodded appreciatively at the thoroughness of his second. When Carmine entered, several customers looked up and greeted the man with respect, they were not taking it as far as kissing his hand, only for discretion's sake. Carmine nodded and smiled, shaking a few hands with the people he passed and asking about their families or business and finally arrived at Tony's table. Tony tilted his head as greetings, and Father smiled, a knowing glint sparkling in his eyes.

"You look a lot better today, Antonio," he said, barely trying to hide his amusement. Tony knew he couldn't possibly have sex hair but passed a hand in it anyway, smirking and shaking his head as he tried to clear his head from his morning's activity.

"And how was _your_ night, Carmine?" he asked in the same tone.

"Much less entertaining, I'm sure. Though some of the men I met could have made successful clueless clowns," Carmine said

"Who?"

"Pironi and Orlanducci came with more than their consiglieres. Some of their associates wanted to be involved in whatever would happen, they were loud and disorganized. Made us waste a lot of time."

"And they can talk," Tony added, unhappy about that new development.

"They won't if they know what's good for them. They may be businessmen, but they know not to screw with the Pironi and Orlanducci families. And I made it clear that this couldn't get out before I decided so."

"Was it a success?"

Carmine smirked and raised an eyebrow, as if the answer was obvious. Tony smiled and threw an arm on the back of the empty chair next to his.

"They heard some rumors about the Mattera brothers fighting. Alfonso may have told someone about your agreement, and Benito has probably heard something about it. I don't think anyone knows what exactly Alfonzo is trying to do, but Benito is onto him and their alliance is crumbling faster than we hoped."

Tony nodded, satisfied, and they paused in their conversation when the owner of the _Restaurant _himself came to take their order. They didn't resume their business conversation before their plates were being taken away and cups of coffee replaced them. Tonio learnt then that the Pironis had already signed the contract that gave the Achenzas every part of what the Matteras had owned in the Pironis' business. Carmine had had to out bid the Mattera family on some high profile activities, but overall, he had just taken over whatever percentage the Matteras owned.

Francis Pironi, the boss of the family, had welcomed the new alliance with open arms. He respected Carmine just as much as he despised the new generation of Matteras, which worked well for the Achenzas. Moreover, the talks about a possible feud between brothers meant that the balance of their family, which was already rickety, could have negative impacts on their associates. Pironi wanted to wash his hands of them before it was too late. Joseph, Carmine's current consigliere, had already made the first draft of a contract that would benefit both families, and after some remodeling (not much) and a lot of discussing, Pironi had signed.

Attilio Orlanducci was another matter altogether. He didn't care much for the Mattera brothers either, but wasn't the kind of man to rush into new deals without a long examination of every single intention hidden behind it beforehand. To Pironi, it wasn't a problem because the old man had been craving an opportunity to tie himself more closely to the Achenza family, but Orlanducci was more independent. His greatest allies were not attached to Baltimore, and his _outfit_ had little claim on the city at all. Their power resided precisely in the fact that their range of action was far reaching, but in cities or territories that Achenza had chosen not to insert himself into. Creating a stronger alliance with them would widen Carmine's power to new areas, and while it could probably benefit Orlanducci too, the man seemed less incline to hand Achenza so much power. This meant Orlanducci was smart.

.

They left _the Restaurant _with renewed plans and strategies, they had even taken the time to think of what to write to Alfonzo in their next note to him. They'd been exchanging messages like that since their last meeting a few days earlier. When Tony got out and found Alceo leaning on the hood of his car, he gave him the piece of paper he needed delivered to Mattera and winked at him. He was about to leave when he came back to his second and took him by the shoulder to draw him closer and motion to the restaurant with his head.

"Don't let _him_ out of your sight, Alceo."

He didn't know why he felt the need to say it, but he could sense in his gut that something was wrong with Carmine, and until he knew what, he couldn't take any risk. Alceo frowned and nodded seriously, and Tony left.

.

He was nearing home when an unexpected call came. He looked at his phone, surprised, but pressed the green button and the voice of the caller filled the car.

"You didn't call me back," the man said without preamble.

"Was I supposed to?" Tony asked, confused but amused.

"Well yeah, kid, first you get shot, then your head seems screwed back wrong, and after that, you call me to vent and do a poor job at it, and you just leave it at that?"

Tony chuckled as he parked the car but stopped short when he took his phone and got out of it. Gibbs was there, waiting by his own car. Why was he waiting outside? Gibbs never waited outside. He usually just let himself in people's apartment and made himself home. And yet there he was, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, leaning against the hood of his car exactly like Alceo had been earlier. Did that mean that Gibbs didn't feel allowed to barge into Tony's place anymore? Did that mean that he was drawing away?

Tony's surprise barely showed as he resumed his movement and conversation while walking toward his boss.

"Sorry if I bothered you last time, Jack," he said on the phone as he approached Gibbs junior while talking to Gibbs senior. "To tell the truth, I thing I was drugged out of my mind, I _had_ just been out of surgery after all."

.

.

Gibbs stood silently as he watched his SFA talking on the phone. Tony had joined him near his car, and Gibbs just wanted to take the phone and throw it away instead of waiting like that so he could have a word. His ears pricked up anyway when he heard the name _Jack_. Wait, the man he'd been talking to on that damn hospital's rooftop had been DiNozzo Sr, hadn't it? Gibbs had been sure of it. He remembered it perfectly. It was actually the last time he'd seen his SFA's face in a few days.

He had spent the night at the hospital on the damn stiff chairs near the bed, but Vance had called him at the yard in the morning, and when Gibbs'd returned back, Tony's bed had been empty. He had raised hell on the staff when no one could tell him where his agent -who had just had a damn surgery- had disappeared. He'd sent all the nurses looking for him, and went roaming the halls himself. When he'd ended up trying the roof, he had finally found him. He heard Tony before he could see him, actually. He had stopped for a moment, wondering with whom he was talking. He had arrived right in the middle of what seemed to be self-deprecation time for Tony.

First thing he had heard was Tony saying that _it_ was too hard, and Gibbs had wanted to jump forth and ask _what, Tony? What is?_ He hadn't needed too. Whomever was on the other end of that line had had the whole presentation. It had been awful, Gibbs remembered. It had been heart-wrenchingly awful, and as he had heard Tony question his whole career, all the choices he'd made in leading and teaching his partners, Gibbs had done it too.

Had he been too hard? Had he been too blind? Had he missed something? Of course he had, but how, when, what? Should he have been more encouraging? Told his Senior Agent how proud he was more often? Told him, _don't worry kid, you're doing fine, don't change anything_, instead of slapping it into him? Gibbs had heard every word, and he had hated himself every step of the way. "Maybe it's time I just stopped", Tony had said, and Gibbs had felt the whole hospital go quiet in that second. The only words echoing in his head Tony's. He had known Tony had had opportunities. Job offers. Even the damn mafia begging him to go to them, but here Tony was, saying that maybe it was time he _stopped_ because of _them_.

Because of _his team_.

Not because he wanted to go forward, not because he wanted a promotion or because he thought he deserved to lead a team, wanted new teachers or a new environment. Not even because he was disgusted by the crimes, the deaths, and all the things that broke so many cops everyday. No, because he thought he'd failed _them_. Because he put their failures on _his_ shoulders. Because maybe he should have been more strict. Maybe they got used to him being nice. Maybe that was why the team had grown lazy. Maybe, and maybe and more _bullshit_.

Gibbs had been so angry. So incredibly angry. And how tired Tony must have been to actually confide those thoughts to someone, and of all people to DiNozzo Sr, a man that Gibbs had thought couldn't care less.

He had chosen to leave before he could do anything stupid, like confront his SFA and make it worse. He had chosen to keep his distance as he repeated the words in his head and mourned the loss of everything he had taken for granted in his team. But then it was time his agent, DiNozzo, no, _Tony_, was released from the hospital. So he got his shit together and maned up, stopped by the pizza place and went to his apartment. It had been empty. Gibbs wasn't even the one his agent chose to stay with when he was sick and vulnerable anymore. He had tried to wait at Tony's place, tried to eat, but everything he put in his mouth had a weird ache taste, and he thought the pizza was burnt or something so he left it in the kitchen and went home.

Of course, it wasn't enough. How could it be?

A man decided to break in Ziva's apartment, and many had thought that that vein that popped in Gibbs's temple was finally going to explode.

It was McGee that had called Gibbs to let him know, and Gibbs had ordered his agent to call Tony ASAP. He was so sure that by the time he'd be at the yard, Tony would be there, making stupid puns to ease the tension while he actually worked his ass off to find the SOB trying to mess with one of their own. But Tony's desk was empty. It had been worse than a damn punch in the face. McGee had been staring at his phone like he'd just heard that his parents had both died, and he'd been so damn lost when he'd looked up at his boss and said "_He's not coming_."

A freaking punch in the face. He had to watch them all realize that no, Tony was _not coming_. Ziva had drawn away, closing herself with some pictures in her head, and though Gibbs could guess what she was thinking of, he knew she had shut him off too. Abby… well Abby hadn't believed it. She'd thought something must have happened to Tony for him not to come. Because _he couldn't leave us all when something happened to one of us, right Gibbs? Tell me I'm right, Gibbs. I know I'm right. I __**know**__ Tony. _

Ducky had reminded them all that Tony was still recovering from a major surgery, and everyone had nodded, but everyone also knew that it had _never_ stopped him from coming back to work before. He'd been on the field one week too early when he was still suffering from remnants of the damn _plague, _for God's sake (and had managed to save both McGee and Kate from a certain death by catching a bomb and taking it on him to set it off, self-sacrificing idiot that he was).

_I failed them_, Tony had said. Three damn words that could never leave Gibbs's head now.

"Sure Jack, I'll tell_ Leroy_ you said hi," Tony answered with a snicker, catching his boss's eyes. There was amusement and curiosity in them, and for a moment Gibbs wondered if they were living in the same world or what.

.

"Hiya Gibbs, your father says hi," the idiot said when he finally put the phone away. "How's the case?" he added just as lightly when the only answer he got was a dark glare.

"It's closed, actually. McGee had a revelation yesterday at 2100 and found some inconsistency in a hidden bank account of the wife. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that?"

Tony's big smile was as good as an admission, but he shrugged and shook his head.

"And you don't know what happened to Ziva overnight, right? Because she was depressed yesterday and came all smiles today."

"Ziva was all smiles at work? Wow, must have been something great, Gibbs."

Gibbs rolled his eyes, and his hands itched to slap something but he refrained from doing so. Tony's eyes traveled to the hands in question and he looked back up at Gibbs knowingly. The damn idiot had the nerve to smirk and raise an eyebrow.

"You talk to my father a lot, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, gesturing to Tony's now hidden phone.

The kid shrugged again, his smile not faltering once, "Well not a lot, but _someone_ had to keep him posted about his son's heroics, you know. From there we developed a routine," Tony explained, looking almost genuine.

Gibbs raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Yeah, you don't give him news in a long time, he calls me to know if everything's okay because he's worried. Oops, I wasn't supposed to say that," Tony frowned and Gibbs's right hand nearly shot to the back of his agent's head.

Trust DiNozzo to take it on him to fix Gibbs's relation with his estranged father _without_ Gibbs knowing. And the kid probably didn't even realize that Jack was checking on him too. His father had developed a soft spot for the SFA from the day they met. Tony caught the slight movement of his boss's hand, Gibbs knew, and for a moment the team leader wondered if Tony was doing more than expecting the headslap. If he was hoping for one.

"What happened to your back?" Gibbs asked, changing subjects like he always did.

"It's fine."

"You don't show on my M.E.'s doorsteps at 2200 hours if it's fine. What happened to it?"

Tony shrugged, and Gibbs decided that if his agent shrugged his shoulders one more time at him, he would forgo the headslap and just punch something instead.

"I stretched the wound too much, walking around too soon after the operation. Wasn't that big of a deal, didn't even open," he said.

"And why exactly couldn't you just sit on your ass like the doctors told you to, DiNozzo?"

"Sit on my ass? _me?_ Com'on Gibbs."

That's when Gibbs realized Tony hadn't called him boss even once in that conversation. It was not unusual for Tony to call him Gibbs -everybody did- but usually, there were just as many "Bosses" thrown casually his way. Then it snapped in him, no beating around the bush anymore.

"You can't keep doing this."

Tony frowned, but didn't have the time to ask what exactly Gibbs was talking about, because the older man resumed:

"You can't keep doing both. You choose to '_take the time off'_ because of your injury," Gibbs said with a smirk (because really, that was a ridiculous excuse not to be coming back to work for _Tony_ freaking _DiNozzo_), "that's fine. But you don't get to work on the cases from home."

"Who said-"

"Don't even try, DiNozzo. McGee told us it was your idea. And Ziva told us she _talked to you_ yesterday."

"I can still talk to my friends, can't I?" Tony said darkly, his eyes squinting as if to help scrutinize his boss.

Gibbs didn't know what was happening in the head of the man facing him, and he hated it. When did Tony became so opaque to _him_? But that shit couldn't go on any longer, Gibbs wouldn't let it. He was drawing the line.

"Maybe you have too many of them right now to know what you're doing."

Gibbs noticed the slight way Tony's eyes widened in surprise. It was barely noticeable, but he did. Because yes, dammit, he could still read his agent. He just wasn't sure of the meaning of what he found.

.

.

Gibbs was telling him it was time he made the choice. He wasn't waiting for the shit to hit the fan anymore, apparently. Tony wanted to ask for more time, _please_, let him correct Ziva's use of American slang just once more. Let him tell Probie who could help him with the SFA's paperwork when he was gone. Damn, he needed more time to say goodbye to Abby, his_ best friend _Abby. A last story from Ducky or _please_ let him at least go to Palmer's wedding. But then Carmine's voice was back. You hold on to the choices you make. No regret. Never. So Tony did the thing he did best. Yes, he was drowning, on fire and torn apart. But he smiled.

"Yeah, maybe you're right boss. Shouldn't have messed with the team when I wasn't supposed to be back yet, sorry."

Gibbs's pokerface was as perfect as usual, but Tony had learnt to read his eyes. Gibbs could never hide his eyes. They were too blue, too piercing to tone down. Tony read the shock but didn't understand it. He was just answering what Gibbs had said. What kind of reply was the older man expecting?

"Duck says you're allowed back to work behind your desk Tuesday. You're not there at 0800, don't bother showing you're face."

Gibbs didn't wait for an answer, opening the door to his car and jumping in, he was taking off before Tony could even begin to think a '_What the hell just happened?' _.

.

.

Back at his apartment, Tony didn't have the time to dwell on this curious meeting. His phone was already buzzing in his pocket, and he was answering without checking the id.

"_Antonio, it's Febo. I've just talked to the Agnesinis, they said the grey Ford Focus was there again, but it wasn't following Lorenzo around, just parked in front of his house_."

"Did you tell Lorenzo about it?"

"_Yeah, the guys did. He said he'd deal with it himself._"

"That's not good. Ask him who these people are."

"_We already did, you know, told him you'd… like to know. He said you already knew exactly who they were. Don't know what that means." _

Tony frowned and was about to say that he didn't know either, but then it clicked.

"_Stronzo_ messed with a meth dealer gang and he thought they'd just back off when they knew what Family we were," Tony growled.

He'd known Lorenzo's stupidity would come bite him in the ass. He had freaking killed a damn kid. Who knew who the kid was to that gang. Who knew what they would do to take revenge. Tonio had promised Lorenzo that he'd be cut off if anything happened, that he wouldn't have the famiglia's help, but that damn grey car wasn't following just Lorenzo. It was parked in front of his _house_. Where Ciara and Julian lived. He couldn't leave _them_ behind. Damn.

"Have the name of these people ready for me in an hour, I'll deal with them myself. Tell one of the Agnesinis to stick with Lorenzo and call me if he thinks he's gonna do something stupid."

"_Stupid like what?_" Febo asked.

"Like try to piss the meth dealers off even more. Or even meet them." Which would basically result in pissing them off anyway, seeing as how Lorenzo had no skills in diplomacy.

Tony sighed, he'd have to do some major damage control there.

.

.

Antonio entered the Mansion as if he owned the place. Carmine was still staying in Washington, but Tonio knew everyone was aware that even in Father's absence, the _capo_ was in command here. He had made the Washington/Baltimore trip so many times and back in the last few weeks that he'd lost count, and he sighed wearily as he remembered why he was there. He'd called Ciara -Lorenzo _'Say-your-prayers'_ Anconetti's wife- to let her know he was in town, and as expected, she demanded he came for dinner that very evening. It would give Tonio the opportunity to show Lorenzo who was in control _and_ ask him more about that damn business he'd entangled himself in. At the same time, Elena was calling him with the info he'd needed on those people. DiNozzo had made her repeat the name twice before it registered that yes, she had said Mr Haynes, from South Baltimore. The very one that was buying every thing he could and was starting to own pretty much everything industrial in the city. So Mr Haynes was into dealing drugs too, huh? Tonio had always had a bad feeling about that man, just from hearing from him. A gang leader, he could deal with easily by sending one of his boys, but a gang leader business man? That would be harder. He wrote a note and passed it to Anton Agnesini, giving him the address Elena had found. It was a pretty simple note. Basically, the universal way to let someone in the business know you have an interest in them and wish to start talking. Hopefully, Haynes would understand the gesture for what it was. If not a peace offering, a first step in that direction. A way to say _I know my man screwed up, let's talk._ The actual message on the piece of paper Anton had to deliver was simply his name and phone number. Tony had no doubt Haynes knew who he was.

.

.

That evening, when Tony showed at Lorenzo's house right on time, he felt his heart warm at the sight waiting for him on the porch steps. Ciara was fidgeting in front of her house, seemingly eager to see him, and Tonio felt guilt at the time he took before he came to visit. He observed her as he walked to her. She had aged beautifully, as he always thought she would. The angles had softened, the cheeks were a little more full, but her eyes were still the exact same shade of green he remembered. And they were just as welcoming and glad to see him as they always were. Tony would sometimes stick around at Lorenzo's until Ciara arrived home just to see that light sparkle in her eyes as she spotted him. It had made him feel wanted. She wore her hair shorter than he remembered, and somehow it suited her features.

She froze when she finally saw him, scrutinizing him from head to toe as if trying to assess every possible change, but soon her smile widened and she opened her arms like she used to do, freely showing her affection. There was no resentment at his betrayal. No demanding explanations. Just obvious relief that he was okay, and happiness at seeing him again. He remembered now why he could never stop himself from going to Lorenzo's back in the day.

.

After being fussed over properly and pushed into the living room where Julian was waiting too, they talked for more than an hour. She asked him about his job with NCIS indiscriminately, even worrying that it was too dangerous. Tony wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement. The wife of Lorenzo Say-your-prayers worrying about his health and job, when Tony had just had her husband strapped to a chair in a hangar days earlier.

Then Lorenzo arrived in time for dinner, and Tony enjoyed every second of obvious struggle he read on the man's face. Anconetti's eyes shot daggers, but Ciara just slapped him softly on the shoulder with a warning ("Manners, mister, we have a guest!"). Tony gave a big smile at the man when he passed him to get into the dining room.

.

It was hours later that Tonio was walked to the door with a dish of left-overs Ciara insisted on giving him in honor of the good old times even though Julian had naïvely asked "_Aren't the cooks of the mansion at home, Uncle Tonio?"_. Ciara had told her son to hush because of course a plate made with love was always better than one made by strangers.

She had been so warm and gentle and understanding that Tonio didn't even notice that she had already hugged him twice without him pulling away. She was walking with him to his car in the dark, hugging herself in a pretend protection against the night chill, when Tonio knew she couldn't hold the words anymore.

"I know you worry about us, Tonio," she started. "I know you see that something's missing. How could it not, my baby is gone. But you shouldn't worry anymore know. We're fixing it. Enzo is doing fine on his own, but we're his family and I'm making sure he knows."

"He couldn't _not_ know that, Cici. You're a wonderful mother," Tony said quietly, avoiding any mention of Lorenzo's name (which was the only actual problem Enzo apparently had with his family).

"I talk to him. I try not to be overbearing, I don't want him to feel smothered, you know?"

There was heartbreak all over her words as she tried to reason with herself. Tony just nodded, his comforting smile not wavering.

"He said he'd try to come visit us. I think it's very hard for him, not seeing Julian. They were very close up until… well-"

"It must be hard not seeing you too. I seem to remember him yelling he couldn't live without your killer apple pie."

"Yes, he did yell that a lot in his running-around-the-house-without-pants phase," Ciara agreed with a small, nervous chuckle.

Tonio laughed, memories from a thirteen year old waltzing around half naked in the home with no care in the world. Lorenzo would always mutter that something was probably wrong with the kid but let it be, and Julian would just laugh non-stop at the shrieks of their poor mother when she'd run after her older son with pants in her hand.

Ciara sighed and shook her head, wistful but smiling.

"Thank you, Tonio," she said quietly, giving him the '_I know what you did there_' look and grabbing his face to give him a big kiss on both cheeks before sending him off.

.

.

The call he was expecting from Mr Haynes came sooner than he'd hoped. He was still in the blue room and Francesca had just texted him that she was on her way to the mansion to see him when an unknown number flashed on the screen of his phone.

"_Mr DiNozzo,_" came the voice from the other end of the line. Tonio didn't recognize it.

"Mr Haynes, I'm glad you received my message so soon," he answered easily.

"_I called to let you know I have no interest in doing business with you or your family_."

Tony frowned. Not a lot of people would have the guts to be that direct to a high member of the Achenza Famiglia. Haynes was either holding a major grudge, or felt he'd gained enough power and influence in the city to be able to claim his independency. That, or he was plain reckless.

"Now, Mr Haynes, why would you –"

"_I am not interested in a demonstration of your famous diplomacy skills either_," Haynes cut Tonio mid-sentence. "_You can cut the crap right now, DiNozzo, it won't lead you anywhere_."

There was something oddly personal about the way that man was talking to Tonio. As if he knew him.

"So you want to have nothing to do with the Achenzas," Antonio summarised icily.

"_See, I knew you were quick."_

"Then I have to ask, _Mr_ Haynes, why your men have been following members of _our_ family around for days."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, but then the man resumed coldly as if he hadn't needed ten seconds to think.

"_This has nothing to do with you or your family._"

"I'm afraid it does involve me _and_ my family in every way possible. You understand business, Mr Haynes, and I believe this means you will be able to see how making a deal with us could profit you. You must know of our strong ties with the south-east district, and I believe you're facing some problems obtaining the land titles and working permits you need for building in the area."

Tonio had to hand it to Elena, she could find _a lot_, and fast. He was lucky to have her, otherwise he'd have never been ready for such a conversation with Haynes so soon.

"So _**now**__ you want to make a deal, huh?" _he snorted without humour, "_I need titles and permits, yes. But nothing you can offer me will wipe the slate clean today. You'll see very soon that it's not going to happen for you or your dog, Lorenzo_."

Tony couldn't even begin to formulate an answer, Haynes had hung up. Well damn.

Something was definitely hinky. Not only did Haynes talk as if he knew DiNozzo, he also seemed to have made the Lorenzo affair personal. The good thing was Haynes didn't think the family was responsible for Lorenzo's strike of genius (aka, killing a twenty year old kid involved with bad people to send a warning to said people). The bad thing was that he seemed set on dealing with Lorenzo the nasty way. And _very soon._

He scribbled a note to Elena, telling her what he needed next and went out to find one of the boys to carry the message. He had learnt enough about electronics to know that every kind of text messages or emails could be intercepted, so he took care never to send anything discriminating other then written by hand so it could be destroyed for good once read. It was like Tom Cruise when he received a mission on every Mission Impossible movies, except the message didn't self-destruct automatically after five seconds, it was burnt by hand so there could be no doubt about it.

He knew he could go look for Haynes police record himself, but he didn't want to log in on his NCIS account nor use his old partners's info to get into the Baltimore PD files like he was used to doing. Didn't want to get anyone in trouble.

Francesca arrived just when Tonio was sending off Nicholas Agnesini to Elena's. She smiled brightly at him and gave him a peck on the cheek before she took his arm and tugged him inside with her. He was about to follow her when he caught a familiar figure at the corner of the street. His perfect eyesight recognized Julian right away, and he knew the kid sometimes took the bus and walked to the mansion to hang out with other famiglia's kids or to meet his father, so it wasn't surprising to see him coming. What sent a warning to Tonio's mind was the two men that had stopped Julian and were talking to him. They were dressed casually in jeans and button downs, but Tony knew they couldn't possibly just be two guys lost in the residential area and asking for direction.

"Wait for me inside, Cesca," Tonio said as he turned on his heels and walked toward the two men and Julian.

One of the men saw him coming and nudged the other one with his elbow, and both looked at him nervously before they started drawing away from Julian. Tonio walked faster, and the two men flew. They jumped in a car parked arount the corner and drove away before Tonio could get close enough to stop them. Julian seemed confused and a bit peeved, he went to his '_uncle_' as soon as he spotted him, as if relieved.

"Who were those men, kid?" Tonio asked immediately as he grabbed him gently by the neck and started walking back to the mansion with the younger man safely secured by his side.

"I don't know, uncle Tonio. I was running here 'cause mama said I could come hang out with you if I found you were not busy, and these guys popped out of nowhere. Thought they wanted to ask me directions to some street or something."

"I bet they didn't."

"They asked if I was _Lorenzo's kid_", Julian said, and Tonio could feel the tension in the young man's shoulders and the undercurrent of fear in his tone.

Tonio himself felt his free hand clench, grinding his teeth.

"I told them I didn't know who Lorenzo was but they insisted. Said I had to know who he was because I lived in the same house. They asked if I was Enzo Anconetti or not, I said I wasn't." Julian talked nervously, fidgeting and craning his neck to glance at Tony every two seconds to see what he was making of it.

"You did good, Julian. Don't worry about it, your father and I'll take care of these people."

Julian's head shot to catch his eyes, as if shocked or maybe even angry at Tonio's answer. The _capo_ didn't understand.

"What's wrong?"

"I know how my father deals with things," Julian said with resentment as he freed himself from Tony's protective and even somewhat affectionate hold, "I just didn't think you- were the same."

Tonio's eyebrows rose in unconcealed surprise and a hint of hurt. He had never heard or even suspected such darkness in Julian's tone. To him, he was still a kid. He should have known better. If Enzo had fled when he'd heard about his father's activities or reputation, then there was no doubt the younger brother knew everything about it too. Tony didn't know why Julian hadn't followed Enzo. Maybe he didn't want to leave their mother by herself. Maybe he hated living in the same house as _Say-your-prayer_ too but couldn't leave. Tony tried to think back to the dinner he had with them the previous evening, and though he could remember Julian exchanging words with his father, he also had noticed that it seemed distant and cold in some way. Except that Julian's bubbly energy as he interacted with his mother and Tony had drowned the detachment toward Lorenzo away.

Sighing, Antonio reached for the young man's shoulders and brought him closer, holding him still as he messed his hair with his free hand.

"Don't draw away from me, kid. I meant that I'll try to talk to your father to figure out what the hell those men want and to keep them away in the future."

Julian was still stiff for a few seconds, but Tony didn't let him go -he wouldn't- and as they walked to the mansion and Tonio informed him that Francesca was there too, something seemed to ease off his shoulders.

Francesca had liked the Anconetti kids when they were all younger. Enzo had had a major crush on her even though (and probably _because_) she was two years older, and would always hang out near the mansion and try to attract her attention with news games he invented. Julian, eager little brother that he was, tagged in in every crazy adventure Enzo imagined for them.

And now they were grown-ups. Cesca was a lawyer, Enzo was enrolled at college and Julian was graduating from high-school. Tony felt old.

.

They spent some time playing billiards, Tonio trying to act as if he was letting Francesca win on purpose (which he was definitely not) and the two younger friends chatting away, reminiscing about their time as kids (before Tony had come) and teenagers and regaling the _capo_ with all the stories about the times they'd gotten themselves in trouble with a few other kids of the neighbourhood. It was relaxing.

Of course, it couldn't last forever, and after a few hours, Elena arrived with a stack of papers Tony knew were for him. He had to excuse himself for a little while, but before he left he spotted the red shade Julian's ears took as Elena kissed him on both cheeks to greet him while Francesca was giving a casual "Ciao Aunt Lena" as she was focusing on the billiard-ball she was trying to hit. He chuckled at Julian's stuttering when Elena asked him how he was doing and shook his head from where he was standing next to the door.

That woman had the same effect on everybody, whatever the age. Francesca caught his eyes and smirked, amused too, before placing the billiard cue again. Elena then touched Julian's shoulder, as if to remove something from the fabric of his shirt, and gave him a small smile before turning around and joining Tony. The _capo_ looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, and she shrugged, giving him a '_What did I do?'_ expression.

Tony was about to close the door behind her to go to his study when he heard Julian's hushed words. Elena and Tony stilled behind the door, knowing they couldn't be seen.

"Do you think they're like- together?" He asked Cesca.

Elena's eyes found Tony's as they heard Francesca snort in a very unladylike fashion before she answered :

"If they're not, I'm giving my car to good-will and buying a baby blue Prius instead."

Julian chuckled and both Elena and Tonio smiled, holding their laughter. Tonio let go of the door knob instead of closing the door so it wouldn't make any noise and reveal that they had eavesdropped.

"Damn, uncle Tonio is the man!" they heard Julian exclaim with admiration before they left the hiding place for good.

In the corridor, Tony had pride written all over his face, his chest thrust out, he threw an arm over Elena's shoulders.

"Heard the kid? I'm the man!" he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Elena just laughed and pushed the files in her hands against his chest.

"Here's some reading for you, Casanova."

.

.

Tonio looked down on the files for the first time, and opened them to take a quick look. He could see that they were photocopies of the original paper police record, and gave Elena an impressed look as he tilted his head to acknowledge her good work.

"Anything interesting for me in here?" he asked as he opened the door and let her pass first. She walked to the heavy desk he always used when at the mansion, and sat on the edge while he took the only chair there.

"Didn't open it yet, I just got it," she explained with a shrug. He nodded and naturally angled the papers toward her too as he started screening the information of one Ronal P. Haynes. The first pages were dismissed quickly, but Tony's hand froze as he turned another page and found a shot of Ron Haynes, for the first time looking at his face. There was something familiar with the man, and Tonio couldn't stop staring at it, as if all the answers he needed where in those face and profile shots of an overall unremarkable white man in his late twenties. Elena's finger called him back to reality, pointing something a few lines down.

Damn.

Det. In charge: Anthony DiNozzo.

Tonio read through the report and sighed. "So _now_ you want to make a deal?" Haynes had asked him. Now it all made sense. Ron Haynes had asked for a deal back then. Apparently he hadn't gotten it.

Tony barely remembered the case, actually, there had been so many of them here in Baltimore. So many violent, petty crimes that the faces were all mixed up and the cases were a blur. Haynes had just been another crooked businessman conducting illegal deals with crooked administration employees. He'd already been in the building business then, Tony read.

"Well," Tonio said as he closed the police record and leant back on his chair, "now we're sure he's not gonna want to compromise with me."

"No wonder we didn't know where the man popped from before he started buying everyone. You'd put him in jail."

"Should have stayed there too. Would have made everyone's lives easier."

Elena smiled at the humorless remark, and took another file, opening it to quickly scan before she handed it to Tonio. It was hand written notes about Haynes personal life. Tonio wasn't even going to ask where this was coming from. There were pictures of his ex-wife (left him when he went to prison), of his daughter before and after his jail time, and of his sister and her husband, who were tightly involved in every business he took. The brother-in-law had died two years earlier in a car accident (apparently), leaving his wife and son behind. Haynes took them in. The son was now twenty years old and –- well that was inconvenient.

"Damn, Lorenzo burnt the nephew," Tonio realized.

Elena immediately got on her feet, waiting for Tonio's next move. She knew he was about to ask something. That was just what he did. Give him all the information, and he could make decisions in seconds. And you could always be sure it was the good ones.

"Protection detail on Lorenzo's house now. Call the idiot, we're gonna have to move Ciara and Julian away as soon as possible. Haynes is out for blood and he already told me it'd happen very soon."

Elena nodded and walked away, Tonio was already on the phone. He didn't notice it himself, the swift change that happened in his tone, manners, in the way he held his head or even stretched his limbs. He didn't notice how his eyes held steel and his tone had a commanding ring even when he wasn't actually ordering anything. Carmine would smile and nod appreciatively. Gibbs would wonder if that was the leader DiNozzo'd become. Everyone else would just obey.

.

.

"Tonio, time to eat," called Francesca from behind the study's door. She knocked twice and opened it, "lunch is ready, time to eat," she repeated with a smile.

"Of course bella," he said naturally as he hung up his phone and rose elegantly to his feet. Cesca squinted her eyes and observed him, but he only gave her an amused smile and offered her his arm like a true gentleman.

"What are you hiding from me?" she whispered before they arrived at the blue room where she had already sent Julian.

"About a thousand things," he answered pleasantly as he stopped to let her walk first.

She frowned but didn't add anything.

Elena had joined them just before they could sit, and Tonio had asked that they wait for Alceo as he knew his second was arriving from Washington and would probably have skipped breakfast too. They didn't have to wait long, and soon the party of five was seated and presented with a delicious but simple meal. It was pleasant too, Antonio making everyone talk and interact while he himself kept more silent, observing with a small smile playing on his lips and a piercing look giving depth to every little contribution to the conversation he gave. At some point, Elena caught his eyes and tilted her head, talking to him without moving her lips. He nodded just as silently. Yes, they could be perfection together.

.

.

At the end of the meal, Tonio invited Julian to stick around for the rest of the day, explaining he had nothing big to do and would probably be bored out of his mind. He warned that he may have to talk to some people from time to time though, but if the kid could find something to busy himself with then they could hang out together most of the afternoon.

Francesca was suspicious but said she was going to stay too. Julian was elated. Elena vanished after a soft stroke of Tonio's palm and a telling look.

.

.

It was funny how there seemed to be no limit to the spite Tony could feel toward Lorenzo Anconetti. It wasn't even just a matter of being a damn cold blooded murderer anymore. It was the fact that Lorenzo was refusing to send his family away, even temporarily. Even to protect them. Even if it was his own damn fault they needed protection in the first place. Antonio had told Lorenzo about everything, but Anconetti was sure he could deal with it himself. DiNozzo had then explained he was not exactly asking for permission, but Lorenzo made the very valid point that it was a personal matter, and that Tonio had said himself that he wouldn't involve the famiglia into it.

"I don't care whether you live or die, Lorenzo. But I won't let your stupidity hurt Ciara or the kids."

"Don't you dare -"

"I dared ten minutes ago, when I sent a car to go get Ciara and bring her here to talk to her myself."

Lorenzo's eyes nearly popped out of his head, his face becoming a violent maroon. Antonio, hands in his pockets, was the definition of calm.

"You can stay and talk to her with me or you can leave. I don't care about your actions anymore."

He turned on his heels and left before Lorenzo could say anything.

.

.

When Ciara arrived it was already starting to get dark outside and distress was evident in her features though she tried to keep it together. She didn't know _what_ was wrong, but she wasn't stupid, she knew something major was going on if the mansion was sending _her_ a car with two men in it just to escort her.

Tonio smiled at her like he always did, but she could see he was there to tell her something important. He was standing taller somehow, he looked more solid. The stupid image of four men charging him but Tonio not budging, popped into her head and she remembered the last time she saw him like that. It had been years ago, when he had gained more power in the family and when suddenly people were starting to follow _him_ around for orders. So she was talking to the _capo _then.

"Julian is fine, Cici," Tonio said right away, and relief washed over her. He offered her a chair but she was determined to take whatever was coming up front, not sitting and shaking like a weak woman that she wasn't. Tonio seemed to understand her thoughts somehow -he often did- and smiled appreciatively, nodding his own encouragement.

In few words, he explained that there were worries about her and Julian's safety, and though she felt fear grip her again, she didn't stagger or hold on to a chair for support. She nodded, waiting for the rest.

"Lorenzo thinks he can deal with it. I know the man behind it and I know he won't stop before someone is seriously injured or worse."

Anthony's voice was strangely anchoring despite being the messenger of the awful news she was hearing. She felt strength ebbing from him and toward her, and didn't hesitate in making it hers.

"Are you sure, Tonio?" she didn't need to ask the question, she knew the answer. He was well aware of that too but nodded anyway. "I have a sister but she's in Nashville and I can't just leave Lorenzo behind. And Enzo, Enzo is in Philadelphia, I can't just leave while he's still so close."

"Nashville is good for now, Cici. And nobody really knows where Enzo is, I'll monitor everyone approaching him there myself if you want, but you can't stay here. You have to understand that this is very real, very dangerous, and that the man after Lorenzo will probably aim for Julian first."

"But I _can't_ leave my baby behind," Ciara said, shaking his head as if he didn't understand. "And we are just starting to get better. He's barely starting to think that maybe we're not evil and he can come home. He'll never want to see us again now, Tonio. Don't you see? This can't be happening now!"

"But it is. You can't put Julian at risk. And Enzo not coming back is actually more safe for him. Ciara, you know I'm right."

He was not beating around the bush or trying to make it easy, but his voice was like a soothing balm on her over-exposed nerves. She nodded but there was something in her look that was still adamant.

"Where is Julian now?" she asked calmly.

They called the kid in and he was immediately worried when he saw his mother now sitting in the living room with Tony talking on the phone, already making arrangements.

"Julian, sweetie, you're going to stay with Aunt Suzie for a few days," Ciara said right away, and understanding dawned on the teenager's face just as he nodded silently, probably intent on not making whatever this was any harder on anyone.

Tony, on the other hand, stopped mid-sentence, his head snapping at Ciara as he heard what she said.

"You can't be thinking-"

"If we all leave they'll go looking for the closer one of us. And that's Enzo. If I stay maybe they'll-"

"I can't let you-"

"They are both my sons, Antonio!"

There was fire in Ciara's petite, round figure as she looked up at Tonio. He knew then that even if he could force her away too, he wouldn't. She was a mother. She would do anything for her sons. He had no right to try and get in the middle of her effort to keep them both alive, her reasoning was sound after all.

Julian was standing next to her, tense but not talking. He didn't even turn his head when Lorenzo's voice filled the room from where he was standing near the door. He entered, his expression grim, and put a reassuring hand on both his wife and younger son.

"It will not last long. I will deal with this and everything will be back to normal," he said in Italian.

Julian jerked free of the contact with his father, not looking at him but not leaving his mother either. Tonio felt a surge of pride build in his chest.

"You can be on a flight tonight at 9p.m," Tony intervened, his phone still at his ear though he hadn't said a word for several seconds now, and the people on the other end of the line had probably been waiting.

"Tomorrow," Lorenzo's voice ordered, and Tonio didn't care enough to acknowledge the man had talked. His eyes were still on Julian, who looked sideways at his mother and back at Tony.

"Tomorrow is better, Uncle Tonio," Julian sighed. "I have to pack a few things before I go and it's already late."

Tonio nodded and walked out of the room to give both the necessary orders and the family some privacy.

.

.

That night, Antonio couldn't shut off his brains long enough to try and get some sleep. He laid there restlessly rethinking everything, from his conversation with Gibbs to the decisions he'd had to make for the Anconettis earlier, and turning every possible scenarios hundreds of time in his head, trying to guess how everything would end. He couldn't. Elena entered his room at around three in the morning, and she made him forget about it all, at least for a while. He drifted to sleep dreamlessly just before dawn.

In the morning, he talked to Carmine on a secured line, giving him the updates. Achenza was silent for the whole report, but by the end approved of every decision made.

"What about Haynes?" Tonio asked, weary.

"_He may not think he needs us, but he can't survive without support from __**any**__ of the families. Now that we're closer, I can make them shut him out. He'll be left to die before he can say Achenza again."_

Tonio had nodded, satisfied, and Carmine had said he'd talk to the Commission before the end of the day.

.  
>.<p>

"_Antonio, they're back."_

Tonio signaled to Alceo to stop talking next to him and asked Zorzetti to repeat what he'd just said on the phone. Alceo turned the volume of the radio down, and when he saw Tony's face darken he found a spot to park the car.

"Same guys?" Antonio asked, frowning.

"_I think so. I could just see one of them when he opened the window to take a picture-_-"

"What_?_ A picture of what?"

"_Of Lorenzo's house..? It was weird, man_," Febo said thoughtfully, not realizing what he'd just provoked in Tony.

"TO LORENZO'S! NOW!" Tonio yelled to Alceo, then in the phone, "call the house, tell Ciara to take Julian to his room and to **not leave** it."

"_What's happening? I can just cross the street and tell them."_

"Don't fucking leave your car!"

"_Si_, _capo_."

"Take their license plate too. And why aren't you already calling the house?"

"_Anton is trying, but nobody's answering. We're not even sure there's anybody in there, Tonio_."

_"_Faster," Tony ordered to Alceo. "Zorzetti, don't let them see your face. Don't let them see anything that could give them your name, we're coming now. Tell Agnesini to call Lorenzo. Call Alceo on his phone now, I need mine."

And he hung up only to go through his contact list and find the number that Julian had entered himself in that phone not a week earlier. The kid answered after the second ring.

_"Uncle Tonio_?"

"Kid, where are you now?"

"_I'm home why?_"

"You're in your room?"

"_What? Why are-_"

"Don't have the time for this, Julian. Listen to me. You're going to lock your door and stay in your room. Is your mother home?"

"_No, no she's gone grocery shopping._"

There was a quiet relief in the kid's shaky words, as if he was terrified and yet knew that whatever was happening, his mother not being there was a thing to be grateful for.

"Okay, I'm there in 3 minutes, Julian."

He hung up again.

"Tonio," Alceo called, and his expression was one of shock, "Zorzetti says some kid has just parked in front of the house."

"What kid?"

Tony didn't hear the answer, they were just about to turn at the last corner before the street of Julian's house when a black SUV passed them, going way too fast.

_No_.

Everything happened so fast then, that it almost seemed to go in slow motion. The car passed them and Tony just _knew_ who they were. He nearly jumped on the driver's seat and honked furiously. To let them know. He honked and wanted to yell "_I know what you're about to do, Fuckers, you've been made, don't do it_." through the deafening cacophony he was making. And that's when he saw him. The "_kid_" that had parked in front of the house had gotten out of the car and was now facing the door. Ringing the bell. Passing a hand through his hair. He heard the horn and turned curiously toward the street to see what was happening. Tony recognized that face just as the lateral door of the SUV was thrown open.

**"ENZO, GET DOWN!"**

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><p>.<p>

**So?**

**.**

Should I have cut the chapter shorter? Was there too much at once?

Do let me know what you liked or disliked, and what you think in general :)


	18. Chapter 18

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SO. This is it, people, things will only go higher before the grand finale.

**WARNING:** the chapter gets darker as it goes, I hope you won't be shocked, please remember that those are the characters you know since the start of the story, don't hate them now. And maybe I should warn about some language. Well, here, I did it.

And now for the silly part :

I finished my exams two days ago, so now I'm on rest-write-eat mode and it feels GOOD. Thank you all for your great reviews, they made me smile in between two written tests and that is the best feeling.

Also, regarding the previous chapter's reviews:

I promise next time I won't make the SUV black ;) (no but more seriously, thanks for your dedication to the story, Araytigre).

I'm sorry, but I really don't think _everyone_ can get through the whole story unscathed.

I won't wonder if you're okay with long chapters anymore.

Oh yes, people, Tony is pissed.

I'm so happy you guys still love him. And even the Achenzas a bit.

Damn Cliffhangers!

You want to know if Tony has a plan, I think the answer.. is now.

My thanks to **Debby**, my beta, for her incredible contribution.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**Chapter 18 -**

_"He said he'd try to come and visit us," Ciara said. _

_._

_._

**"ENZO, GET DOWN!"**

The sound of rifles opening fire had Alceo brake and the car made a dangerous turn to avoid crashing into the SUV that had suddenly slowed down. The rifles were still shooting, the sound of shattered glass choking the yells coming from inside the house. Tony didn't miss a beat, and though he'd been badly shaken by the abrupt stop he was out of the car, gun drawn, in less than 10 seconds. But the SUV was already pulling away, followed by the other car that had been parked there since morning.

Blood was pumping in his ears, echoing in his chest, arms, hands. He turned away from the street to look at the now destroyed house and he wished his eyesight wasn't so perfect. He wished he was blind. So he could not see with crystal pure quality the long body, limp on the ground and all the blood still gushing from it. He didn't move for a few seconds, but it was enough for the door of the house -or what was left of it anyway- to shyly crack open, letting a pale, trembling kid appear.

"Un-Uncle Tonio?" Julian barely whispered, but Antonio's senses were heightened in some way, because he heard it as if he was just by his side. There was an odd quality to the silence around them, as if it was all a dream.

Julian's eyes were wide with fear and unshed tears but there was such a relief when he found that Tony, in the middle of the street, was unharmed, that he still found it in him to smile. Tony realized Julian hadn't looked down at his porch steps yet, and he wanted to hurl but caught the eyes of the teenager instead, somehow trying to convince him _not_ to look around. The kid opened the door more widely, losing some of his caution, and tried making a step forward only to feel his foot hitting something. Tony tried to hold him with a gaze. Don't look down. Don't. Look.

But already, Julian's head was lowering and his eyes were looking but didn't seem to see. He was there, standing frozen over his brother's broken body and his face was void of all life. For a terrifying second, Tony thought Julian might have been hit too and he straightened, ready to jump forward. But then the kid's face morphed with such despair that it couldn't have been caused by physical wounds, it was worse.

.

.

It felt like hours had passed since Tony'd spotted the SUV, but everything had gone down in a few minutes, and his senses were back full force, telling him he should leave because he couldn't afford being arrested by the Baltimore PD, _his_ old department. And already, plans were forming in his head. There hadn't been a plate at the back of the SUV, but the grey car had one. Tony hadn't seen the man holding the rifle but he'd seen his arms and hands, large and strong. Plans of what to do next were pushing one another in his head. Because unconsciously, he knew that whatever he'd had planned _before_, had just gone up in fumes.

He thought he was thinking more clearly but the shock had clearly not passed. His body was standing tall but he felt weak against the restraining hands of Zorzetti and one of the Agnesini brothers. They were holding him, he realized. He'd been thinking ahead, not realizing that he was fighting against them at the same time, trying to free himself from their hold so he could run to Julian and take his now bloodied hands off the corpse of his brother. Tony's eyes seemed to refuse to look back down, his mind forbidding it to avoid losing it again.

"Let me go," he said, his voice carrying through the sound of cries in the neighboring houses and the silence of the kid in front of him. Julian, fragile, young, naïve Julian, was on his knees in a pool of blood and glass, and his paleness and stillness made him look just as dead as his _brother_. Enzo. Ciara's words were resonating somewhere in a corner of Tony's head, "_We're trying to fix it, Tonio, don't worry. He said he'd try to come and visit us." _But Tony wasn't paying attention to the voice, he couldn't afford to.

"Tonio you have to go, the police are coming, you can't be here," Febo said, still not releasing him.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

There wasn't any emptiness in the voice that said that. There was steel, power and danger. He turned to catch Febo's eyes and ordered him silently. The two men that had tried to drag him back let him go immediately. This was not _lost Tony_ anymore. This was not overwhelmed Tony trying to focus and think of everything.

This was Antonio DiNozzo, looking one last time at the 18 year old on the ground next to his destroyed house, and giving him his back to get in the car he'd come in. Febo jumped behind the wheel, and they took off without another word.

.

.

He had too many things to do to lose time going back to Washington, but Carmine was still there and he couldn't leave him unprotected, so he was on his way there with Zorzetti driving them and Anton and Nicholas Agnesini in the back. By the time they arrived in town, Father had already called him to learn what had happened and Alceo and Elena had both called him twice to give him updates he hadn't asked for on the situation back in Baltimore.

"I'm here in 5 minutes," he said to Carmine as he answered the phone again. He knew Father was going to meet him at his apartment, so he'd assumed what the man was calling him about. He wasn't expecting the answer.

"_Well, Antonio_," Carmine said, and Tonio could hear that the man's voice seemed older somehow. He knew it had been a hard blow hearing about the attack on Enzo. A Famiglia's _innocent _kid. But something more was off. He'd felt it when they'd talked earlier too, but now it felt like Carmine was trying to hide it. "_It appears I was not the only one trying to find you_."

Tony didn't need to ask what that meant. There were way too many FBI agents following the Achenzas' every move for them to have missed the shooting. Gibbs had probably received a call at some point. Tony hung up without saying anything. He didn't need to ask Febo to step on it, he was parking in his street two minutes later.

.

Tony didn't know what had already been said when he arrived. Gibbs wasn't alone, McGee and Ziva were standing behind him defensively as their boss faced Carmine Achenza. Father had obviously asked Alexander -his permanent bodyguard- not to get involved, because the bulky man was several feet behind, fidgeting like he was fighting not to draw his gun and shoot Gibbs away. He wouldn't have been wrong thinking the NCIS agent was about to aggress his don either.

Before the car had even stopped, Tonio knew he'd been right about Father. Something was not normal. The man was standing facing Gibbs but there was a slight slump in his shoulders that -though barely noticeable- was like a neon sign giving off warnings. When Tonio got a look at Carmine's face, he jumped out of the car.

Father was paler than usual, and though his facade held strong before Gibbs's outright yelling, Tony knew that the Don was not feeling good. By that point, the _capo_ didn't care one bit about what Gibbs was accusing the padrino of. Something had obviously made the team leader snap. His SFA involved in a deadly shooting in Baltimore was probably over the invisible line setting off his temper. Gibbs was raging, pointing his finger menacingly in that way that made tougher men flinch, his eyes piercing the mafia leader facing him with his darkest glare, but Tony could see that Carmine was barely listening.

McGee was hovering behind Gibbs, his face set in a frown but as apparently determined as Ziva's while they heard every word their boss was hitting the other man with.

Tonio ran.

"And now your people kill _kids_? That's how your family works? That's where you want to take my agent? You are _not _taking him down with you. A college student pierced by bullets in front of his home? That's what you do? That's the damn principles you love?" Gibbs said, alternating softer tones with icy ones, cutting like the glass Tony had felt against his cheek and palms as he'd jumped from his car barely an hour earlier.

"What the hell is happening here?" Tonio said calmly, his voice still stronger than ever, still inhabited by the same commanding authority it did earlier. The three members of his NCIS team looked at him like they'd been slapped in the face, his tone, so sharp was demanding answers from them, not Carmine.

.

"Tony, don't upset yourself for trivialities," Carmine's voice came from behind him as the younger man had placed himself directly between Gibbs and Father.

Gibbs threw a murderous glare at Carmine over Tony's shoulders and looked back at his SFA, dead serious.

"I came to ask you the same question, DiNozzo."

Tony barely looked at him before turning around, giving the other man a once-over that confirmed his suspicion. A fine layer of sweat was starting to form on his neck and hair line, and Tony grabbed him by the shoulder when he looked like he was about to stumble back. So he'd been right before. Carmine was sick.

"Hey!" Gibbs's _wake up call_ voice rung behind him, and Carmine tried to smirk but it ended up like a grimace of weakness that Antonio shielded away with his body. With a sign, he called Alexander, who came running as soon as he caught his gaze. The soldier stood just behind Carmine, putting a hand on his back and thus telling Tonio that whatever Carmine suffered from, Alexander knew about.

"Are you going to explain now, DiNozzo? Do you still think you can just keep playing around with these people without consequences? How long do you _think_ I will keep the director off your back pretending I know what big plan you have?"

Gibbs was beyond pissed, obviously. The violent death of Enzo had obviously been reported with enough details to make him lose his calm. But this was _not_ the day to have this conversation. This was _not_ the moment, nor the place to yell at him. Tonio's ears picked Carmine's gasp, and he heard the older man's breathing become more shallow. He moved his head toward Alexander again, and the bodyguard took Father by both arms and started moving him away. As evidence of his state, Carmine didn't try to object.

"Where do you _think_ you're going?"

Gibbs's hand shot to grab Carmine's elbow, and trained as he was, Alexander gun was immediately levelled at his forehead. Gibbs released his hold but had his gun out before Alexander could try to take the safety off of his.

Tony felt his men by the car move, and he knew they were probably readying themselves for some action. Ziva and McGee were certainly already aiming their guns at Achenza. Tonio too had taken his SIG.

His arm perfectly straight, his gun aimed directly at Gibbs's temple.

.

.

"Tony!" both Ziva and McGee gasped, looking from Alexander to their supposed partner with shock and incomprehension. Gibbs was very still, but then he turned, Tony's gun -inches from his face- now pointed between his eyes.

Tonio's eyes didn't waver. Didn't blink. Didn't look away for even half-a second. His heartbeat was perfectly calm. His hand steady. His head clear.

"You know where to take him," he said without moving. He was talking to Alexander, who understood and put away his gun without a second's hesitation under Tonio's order.

Tony himself wasn't sure where Carmine would be going, but it seemed obvious that he had a personal physician somewhere in the city. Couldn't have been in Baltimore for fear of the rumor on his health spreading out. Couldn't be too far away either. Not the hospital, naturally. So private practice, probably. Alexander, Carmine's silent shadow, seemed used to seeing his boss like that. Which meant it had happened more than once. Which meant it could be serious. Tony broke the visual contact with Gibbs, aware that he wouldn't be attacked, and looked at the car to which Achenza was going, half carried by Alexander. There were two other men inside, and Tony tried to commit their faces to memory so he could deal with them later.

When the car pulled off, Tony's gun went down. Gibbs's eyes had never left his face. He didn't seem shocked. His face was a wall of neutrality. It often was. Too bad Tony could read his eyes. He always had.

"'_Playing_ _around'_, Gibbs?" Tonio finally repeated as he put his SIG back in its holster. "Does this look like a game to you?" He was a rock, his tone unbreakable. "Never expected you to shield me from the director either, not your style, so you can just stop that too," he added as an afterthought.

He sighed then, as if annoyed to be losing his time and shook his head, waving his hand to the three men several feet behind him, still standing to attention. The Agnesinis entered the car and Febo opened the driver's door but stayed standing there, still watching them.

"What you did tonight wasn't clever, kids," Tony resumed, glancing at Ziva and McGee over Gibbs's shoulder to let them know he was talking to them too. Then looking back at '_his boss_'. "You should lock your door tonight," he added almost casually.

"I never close my door," was Gibbs's first words. Tony heard _'I'm not afraid of anything.'_.

"You'd better make an exception this time."

"Are you actually trying to pull that threatening bullshit on me, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked in his deceptively soft but actually dangerous tone.

"I don't have the time for this," came the answer, dismissing them. Digging in his pocket, Tonio took out his keys, making an effort not to pause to stare as he opened the key-ring to take out a blue one. He looked at McGee, warning him, and threw it to him. Probie caught it easily, although still dumbfounded. "_You_ lock his door before you go home."

He didn't need to add the '_I'm not kidding_' part, his ways left no room for doubt. McGee nodded very seriously, aware of the warning behind the order, and thus of the danger. Probie didn't even flinch when Gibbs glared at him with his "Like hell!" expression. Tony nodded, and turned on his heels, leaving without a last glance.

"I don't need to remind you, Special Agent Gibbs, that Baltimore isn't your jurisdiction," was the last thing the MCRT heard before Tony's care drove away.

.

.

Tim had never felt so tense in the bullpen in all his history with NCIS. It wasn't even 0750, and yet they were already all there. Gibbs at his desk, Ziva talking quietly with Abby -who had found an excuse to hover around their desks instead of staying at her lab, Ducky and Palmer down at the autopsy called McGee every other minute, and even Director Vance, walking circles from his office to the top of the stairs with a view on the team. It was no secret that Gibbs had told Tony that he had to come back Tuesday at 0800 or never bother showing his face again. In Gibbs speak, it wasn't such an unusual warning, but this time, the stakes were different. Tony had left them with a reminder that Baltimore was out of their jurisdiction. Despite the words uttered, everyone had heard the message Tony had sent. "Don't come near my city."

Now if the SFA arrived singing at the top of his lungs, gave his usual self-deprecating smile and made that face that meant he was sorry, maybe, _maybe_, everything could go back to normal. Maybe Gibbs would take him down on the mats later and make him spill everything out. Tony would explain he'd had a plan all along. He'd explain what it was. He'e explain that it was the biggest undercover operation he'd ever been in and laugh and joke about how he had them all going.

But if he didn't show...

The elevator's door dinged open before McGee could finish the thought. His heart leaped out and his eyes shot to Gibbs before they went to the newcomer.

"Ah, by the look on your faces, I'm afraid you were expecting someone else," Ducky said as he and Palmer got out with an apologetic expression as the joined the others.

"Still no sign of him?" Palmer whispered to McGee. Tim shook his head no. Palmer walked behind Tim's desk and leant against the cupboards behind it while the ME went directly to Gibbs's desk. Tim had the absurd picture of the old man placing himself as a guard shielding the team leader against bad news.

The tension was so dense that it wasn't even awkward. They weren't even trying to pretend to be talking. They were just waiting. Gibbs had his glasses on and was reading something, but he was the only one not obviously staring at the elevator. The door of the elevator closed then, called by someone else, McGee could nearly hear a collective intake of breath.

"Gibbs," came the voice of Leon Vance.

Abby nearly jumped back as the voice called everyone back to reality.

"Cynthia tells me DiNozzo said he was coming to see me."

Gibbs, his eyes looking up at the director, barely moved. McGee's eyes were going from Vance to his boss, trying to see if they were silently communicating. He knew they were all doing the same when he realized they had all missed the elevator popping open again, and a tall, familiar man coming out of it.

"Tony...," Ziva said quietly, not adding anything.

Seven pairs of eyes traveled through the bullpen to find the Senior Field Agent's easy smile, and something eased in the air. Palmer even let a shaky sigh out.

Abby was about to jump in his arms, but Tony immediately reached for her shoulder with a hand, and she stopped short, understanding he was keeping her away gently. She looked at him surprised, but he only smiled.

"Hey Abbs, I have a few things to do before we can talk, okay?"

She nodded fervently, relieved he wasn't actually rejecting her hug. Tony seemed to make eye contact with everyone, reassuring each person in the room, but his eyes never even came close to their boss's desk. And those eyes... well those eyes weren't quite as warm as his smile. McGee felt the need to get up and shake his senior partner, but before he could actually do anything, Vance cleared his throat to call their attention to him. Tony looked up and McGee could have sworn DiNozzo had smirked coldly for a fraction of a second, but then the warm smile was back.

Something was wrong.

Without another word, Tony jogged up the stairs and disappeared into the Director's office. It didn't last long. He was out of there barely ten minutes later, but with the heaviness of the air making the bullpen seem more oppressive than ever, McGee had already pulled on his collar twice and felt like it had been 2 hours. Palmer had been sent to autopsy by Ducky, who chose to stay. Abby fidgeted for a few minutes but couldn't take it anymore, so she said at large she was waiting for Tony downstairs, and took the stairs to her lab.

When Tony appeared at the top of the stairs, it was with his easy way and he walked down to the bullpen in his casual light steps that made McGee hopeful.

"Is Abbs back at her lab?" Tony asked Ziva as if he'd been asked to give her some file by Gibbs or something. His partner nodded.

"I believe she's expecting you," she added.

He smiled and pushed the button calling the elevator. Gibbs had already risen from his chair.

"DiNozzo, do you think -"

"Special Agent Gibbs," Vance's voice interrupted, and once again every nose went up to the usual spot the director of NCIS favoured on the stairs because of the vantage point it gave. Tony was the only one not budging. His eyes were locked on Gibbs while the team leader looked away. McGee caught the stare just a fleeting second before Tony entered the now open elevator, and he was surprised by the intensity it held.

"Agent DiNozzo has finally decided to take some of the days off he has accumulated over the years. Effective immediately."

McGee's mouth dropped open, Gibbs's eyes turned to ice, and even Ziva's head shot toward the SFA.

The doors were already closing on their friend when McGee tried to call him. Tony just smiled, and McGee felt irrationally sad at that sight.

"_Abby_," Tony mouthed to assure he was not yet leaving the building.

.

.

McGee didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. He tried to focus on the stacks of paper on his desk, but the only thing he could think about was the way Tony's eyed had flashed with … power? -Was that even possible?- when he'd thrown Gibbs's keys to him and told him to lock their boss's door during the whole Carmine-discussion-Debacle. It had been a near impossible task by the way. He'd had to follow Gibbs home and fight the glare off. Gibbs's eyebrows had risen impossibly high when he'd realized that Tim had been adamant and had planned on spending the night in his car if his boss didn't let him lock his door. Gibbs had snorted at first, in that 'you just try' way of his, but then McGee had. Tried, that is.

It had been a terrible failure when Gibbs had made a step on the side to block the younger man from his door and the stare had upgraded to level two on Gibbs's scale. Ten minutes later, Tim was receiving a level 9 one, and 10 was Ari-level. But McGee didn't move. He had taken all the "_are you trying to lock me in my own damn house?"_ and "_i'll kick your ass out of my team if you touch my property" _ in stride, still wielding the keys. Then Gibbs had said something different. "_I'm your boss, McGee. Are you disobeying an order?_".

McGee hadn't had to think about it. He had seen the look on Tony's face. The one that said: this is serious, don't mess it up probie. The one that said: _I_ am giving this responsibility to _you_. So Tim had just answered sincerely: I'm sorry boss. Gibbs's mouth had snapped shut and his face had turned back to neutral-poker-face-I'm-in-deep-thoughts-Gibbs's mode. McGee had felt the tip of his ears warm. He had wondered briefly if he'd find his stuff in a box the following Monday. Then he had tried to put the keys in the lock. Except this time Gibbs had let him, still watching him. McGee had waited till his boss walked a few steps back and closed the door to his face. He turned the key, and sighed.

"Go sleep, Tim," he'd heard softly muttered through the door.

He'd obeyed.

.

And now Tim couldn't sit still anymore. He couldn't just witness the drama unfold and not even _try _to comprehend what was happening. That was old Tim. The one that didn't ask the right questions until too late. No, he wouldn't just sit and hope Tony was not creating a mess (which, more probably than not, was the case). And he would certainly not stay silent until he had to watch his partner, his _friend_, be blown up on TV or something (_again_).

He shot to his feet the second Gibbs left his desk to wander God knew where. Ziva only nodded when he passed her, probably encouraging him in a weird kind of way. He nearly jogged to the lab, using the stairs.

.

.

" – is it?"

Tim only caught the end of Abby's question. He stopped short when he realized her voice was shaky, which meant tears at bay.

"Just keep it now, Abbs. Listen to it, from the start. I know there's a lot of stuff but you can skip a majority of it."

"You can't really be leaving Tony. I know you can't."

Tony didn't answer, and McGee wanted to jump forward and slap his partner on the back of the head himself.

"You know how I know? I know because you're a hero Tony. Do you understand? Heroes are the ones who are afraid to _run away_. And you're too good. That's why you can't just leave them. That's why you can't just send that Lorenzo guy to jail. Don't look at me like that, I've hacked every file I could find. And I found them all.

"You're too good so you can't do anything to hurt the others, his wife and kids, and Francesca and Elena or whatever. That's why you're still going back. I know you're not betraying us. I _know_ you're not becoming a mafia lord. Do you understand? Nothing can make me believe you'll leave us. You're a hero and you're too good to leave us behind. I know now. I've seen the offers Vance gave you. I've seen Greece, Cuba and Spain. I've seen them all and I know why you didn't take them. You didn't take them because of us, unruly children. Because you know we needed you.

" So you can't leave now, because McGee is barely starting to get the gist of this leading thing, and Ziva is still scarred, and we both know you won't trust anyone with the boss's back. Don't look at me like that. Don't you _dare smile_ either, Tony! I won't have it. I won't have any of it. You're not going to console me. This time we're going to console you. You can't save everyone. You can't. Please, stop trying. Please. I promise we'll still love you. I promise you'll be our hero."

McGee could barely stand it. Abby had talked, paused, and resumed, uninterrupted, and McGee wanted to lean on the wall (which he did) because he felt out of breath. Tony hadn't said anything. He still wasn't talking. Tim felt adrenaline pulsing through his veins.

"I am a lot of things, Abby," Tony's voice finally rose, as steady and casual as McGee's heart was erratic and loud in his chest. "But I'm certainly not a hero."

"Why would you say that, Tony? After all the things you've done here, with us and before? You're the bravest man I know. Even before Gibbs. How could you think that?"

There was a desperate edge to Abby's voice though she was trying hard to keep calm, as if she really wanted to explain something and was doing everything she could to do so.

"Simple, Abbs. Heroes have honour."

.

.

There was a pregnant silence, and McGee couldn't believe what he'd just heard. He felt like his ears were ringing.

"Take care of yourself. And listen to this when you can."

And with that (and what McGee thought was the sound of a soft kiss, but he couldn't be sure), Tony walked out. Tim had barely had the time to jump out of sight in a weird instinct that contradicted what he'd decided to do earlier. He needed to see Abby. He nearly slammed into the hermetic glass doors which didn't open soon enough in his hurry.

She was giving him her back, standing straight near the principal, central desk on which the biggest computers were. Her hand was clasping the edge of said desk with such strength that her fingers were white. Her posture was stiff, her free hand contracted in a trembling fist.

"I had promised myself, McGee," she said without turning to see him, "I had promised myself never to let a man do that. But Tony just did it."

She turned slowly to meet his gaze, and he was surprised to find no tears but even worse, gut-wrenching sadness in her eyes.

"_He just broke my heart." _

_._

.

Tim arrived at the bullpen just when Tony shook Ducky's hand with a laughing smile as he said goodbye. He'd missed what they'd said but guessed by the look on the ME.'s face that the casualness of it all was just a big masquerade.

Then Tony went to Ziva, who was now standing by his desk, and took her hand, charmingly caressing it with his lips before he let it go and winked at her. She looked concerned but smiled nonetheless, two things Ziva would never have let show when she had first started with the team.

After that, he just went behind his own desk and grabbed the bag that was always kept behind his chair. It was like 'old' times. He looked like Gibbs had just arrived and told them to "_grab their gear!". _Tony's eyes fell on McGee when he looked up, the probie still on the last step of the stairs, watching silently. Tony smiled at him and leant on his desk to pick up his mighty mouse stapler. Holding McGee's eyes, he stepped back just enough to reach his probie's desk and put the stapler by the stack of paper he had neglected earlier. Tim didn't move.

Tony walked to the elevator and called it before he turned back one last time. He was obviously not expecting Tim to jump forward and appear just a few inches from his nose.

"You wouldn't leave before you thought I was ready, and we both know I'm not. You told me the other day. I got it. Now what the hell are you doing?"

Tony's eyes widened in surprise at the tone of his probie, but then his smile seemed to turn more amused and genuine than earlier:

"You didn't get it, McGee," Tony said, his look just as piercing as Gibbs's usually was.

Just then, the Senior Field Agent's eyes went past McGee's shoulders to fall on the farthest desk in the bullpen. Tim didn't need to turn around to see whose desk it was. He was scrutinizing Tony's deep, hard gaze to try and understand. To find something that would give him an explanation. He didn't. So he finally turned and realized Tony's eyes were not on his boss anymore, but on the desk itself. The man smiled again and shook softly his head. "Nobody's ever ready."

The elevator's doors closed on the blazing green eyes still unflinchingly looking over McGee's shoulder.

.  
>.<p>

Tony's hands were steady as he opened his car, slid in smoothly and started the ignition. He hadn't paled as he drove away from the navy yard. His heart wasn't beating too fast, too loud, in his chest. He wasn't trembling. He didn't feel like he was losing his mind. He wasn't drowning in a sea of mixed feelings, of jumbled thoughts. Everything in him had relaxed.

Of course, he hadn't been like that earlier. He hadn't been like that when he had found himself home alone for the first time since _Enzo. _He hadn't been like that when the hopeful words of Ciara kept echoing in his mind, driving him crazy. "_I know you see that something's missing. How could it not, my baby is gone._" She'd said. "_But we're fixing it." "He said he'd try to come and visit us." _

No, he hadn't been calm when he was feeling his blood pumping in his system, when his hands were clutching the glass of liquor he had poured himself in his study, when he wanted nothing more than to _break_ something.

He had imagined himself throwing the glass with all his strength. The satisfaction of watching it shatter against a wall, the alcohol splashing everywhere, the hundreds of cutting pieces on the floor, the cracking sound of his steps on them as he walked to the remnants of the glass and crouched to grab a handful of the broken pieces in his fist. The satisfaction brought by the pain when his palm bled to reflect what he felt _inside. _

But as Mozart's _Requiem_ drew to an end in the room, as it randomly jumped to the overture of _Don Giovanni_ , Tony's hold had frozen around the drink in his hand and he'd understood. It wasn't a glass he wanted to break.

So he'd sat on his leather chair and stayed silent until the very last second of the very last part of Mozart's most brilliant opera. And when the last note had alighted on his skin and sunk into his muscles, his hands were no longer shaking, knowing the release _would_ come. He'd gotten up, shut the music off, and left.

But that was days before.

Tony looked up at the sign indicating Baltimore in the road, and passed a hand through his hair before putting it back on the wheel to resume his tapping. The rhythm was Mozart's all the way to the Achenzas.

.

.

It was nearly midnight when Gibbs finally thought everyone had gone home and no one would barge into the bullpen anymore. He had been patiently working on the paperwork load a team leader had to deal with – especially since said team leader had no SFA for the moment – for more than three hours now. He was particularly slow that night, he knew, and it annoyed him to no end to realize that he was probably not going to be able to think about anything other than _Tony_ that night. Cold or solved cases be damned. At the second the last agent-or-whatever of the level bid him goodnight and disappeared (blissfully unaware of the tension oozing from the MCRT leader), Gibbs dropped the file in his hand and slid with his chair to his left. He stared at the closed drawer of his large desk twenty seconds before swearing out loud and passing a hand through his hair, not realizing whose signature movement it was.

"W_hat is it boss, afraid of a desk drawer now? Where is the famous courage of LJ Gibbs, silver-haired fox extraordinaire?"_ a taunting and familiar voice said in his head.

Gibbs swore again, this time remembering the look of Tony as his eyes finally stopped avoiding him only to fall on this miserable little desk. Gibbs had never lost a meaningful glance from his SFA. So he'd understood there was something. "O_h, so you _are_ afraid of what this something might be! Well boss, I never thought I could see the day when _I_ would cause _you_ fear." _The damn voice resumed in his head.

Gibbs snorted humourlessly. The imagined voice in his head sure had no idea how many times DiNozzo had managed to make his boss's heart freeze in fear. The damn idiot always found new ways to be in trouble.

Maybe he should have told him that one day, he thought for a fleeting second before shaking his head.

Straightening in the chair, Gibbs reached for the handle and pulled. He didn't move for a few seconds. His hand still in place, the drawer half open.

There it was. A bottle of Jack, waiting for him in a drawer he locked every night before he went home.

.

.

It was 0300 when McGee's phone woke him up. His ringtone wasn't half as shrill as Gibbs's or Tony's, but it was still a very bad way to start a day... especially in the middle of the night. But Tim didn't have the time to be annoyed, worry took over pretty fast as he heard Abby's voice on the other end of the line. He felt something was _hinky_ the second she started talking. Not because of _what_ she was saying, but because of the _way_ she said it.

Her voice was eerily soft and quiet. Her tone calm. She sounded... numbed.

"I think you should come, Tim," she said right away.

"Okay."

McGee didn't need any explanation, he was already looking for the shoes he'd tiredly thrown somewhere around his bed before falling bonelessly on it, so very few hours earlier.

"I'm calling Ziva and Ducky. And Palmer," Abby added in that same subdued tone.

"Want me to call Gibbs?"

"No, you're driving me to his place, he already knows we're coming."

Oh that was so not good. McGee nodded as if she could see him, and maybe she sensed it, because she hung up.

.

.

She hadn't uttered a word on the way to their boss's house. She wasn't even _looking_ like his-_their_ Abby. The bag containing her personal computer was on her lap, and her hands were atop of it, but not fidgeting or clutching, just … resting there.

McGee nearly cried in relief when her face animated as the house came into view.

She entered the house without pausing, and nearly ran downstairs, where she knew everybody would already be. Tim followed, praying whatever she was about to tell them wasn't as bad as what his author's mind was imagining.

She didn't take the time to hug any of the others, most of which were still in their pajamas under their jackets, she was already firing up her computer. When the three notes signalling the engine had woken up rung in the room, she started talking. Fast, but without the Abby-trepidation that was her signature.

"When Tony came to see me this morning, he gave me several tapes. It took me a moment to transfer everything onto my computer," she said, and she didn't even comment further on how old fashioned her best friend was. Oh something was wrong alright. "but I started listening to the first ones. I think it's just... everything since the beginning of this mess. He taped everything from the night of that day Achenza came to NCIS with the feds. Or at least that's my guess. I don't think it's always the same mic recording what happens. My guess is that he had a few mics in his apartment, and another one on him. And looking at the technology, it was probably the kind of old ones you tape to yourself or some version of it, I don't know."

"Impossible, that would be too dangerous," Ziva interrupted while the others still took everything in.

Palmer looked very serious but thoroughly lost, and Ducky was keeping an eye on Gibbs. The boss's attention was entirely focused on Abby.

"Maybe he knew they would never search him," Tim said.

"First, that's a big leap of faith to take-", Ziva's voice lingered a second, as if expecting an absent voice to correct or congratulate her for the use of an American expression. "and second, who bugs their own apartment?"

"Well, it's not someone _else_, seeing as how _he_ brought it to Abby."

"That doesn't mean anything, I found my apartments or hotel rooms bugged hundreds of times, and in some cases you can find the -"

"Why did he give it to you?" interrupted Jimmy Palmer, his face suddenly turning hard.

McGee and Ziva, who were both about to expound new arguments for their disagreement stopped short. Everyone turned back to Abby.

"I wanted to listen to everything from the start," she said quietly, not looking away from the screen in front of her, "because I thought I'd get all the answers. But then it hit me, yes, why would he give it to me now? So I jumped to the last part of the recording. The last one he made. It was the day after you guys met him and Achenza near his place."

Abby paused, and McGee wanted to press her for more, but then she just clicked on something, and voices filled the air. The quality wasn't great, but it was good enough to hear the words and understand.

"-_- should really shut your mouth now, he's pissed enough._" A first voice no one recognized said. It seemed calm enough, and the warning seemed true.

There was a broken snort after that, and another voice, drawling and cocky answered:

"_Is this what being pissed looks like in your joke of a family? Look at the SOB, he's fucking smiling at me._"

"_Language, dog_," a third voice intervened.

"_Or what? Look we're not dumb. We know everything about all you pieces of shit, especially this one. Yeah, you!_" the second voice resumed.

There was some sort of echo, as if they were in a large room or something. McGee couldn't look away from Abby's back to see how the others reacted, he was way too deep into the conversation, trying not to miss anything.

"_Everyone knows you work with the feds. And even if you're not anymore, you know what they say about you out there? They say killing is 'not your style'. Never burnt a guy for your family_."

There was spite mixed with defiance in the man's tone. McGee imagined Tony (since he was obviously the one being talked to) and at least two men 'on his side' facing that other one with the foul mouth and attitude.

"_I'm serious now, Masen, you should shut your mouth before you regret it,_" the first voice said.

McGee wondered if it was the famous Alceo Peasci he'd seen on surveillance pictures and heard of when Abby made her debriefs on several previous occasions. He knew he was supposed to be Tony's second or something. Tim had never liked the idea much. He nearly missed the only actual family name they'd been given. Masen. Masen. He'd have to do his research later.

"_You don't understand, _Fonzie_, I am not afraid of your garlic lover family._"

There was the sound of movements that Tim couldn't really imagine and then:

"_Alceo, no_," a voice the whole team recognized immediately said calmly. "_I believe I asked you not to touch him,_" Tony added with that naturally commanding tone the MCRT had lately discovered.

Masen, who Alceo had (probably) been about to hurt, laughed out loud, obviously mocking. Tension was pumping in Tim's veins. What was going to happen?

"_Now what, you're protecting me from your guys?_"

Tony didn't answer him, instead, he ordered Alceo again: "_You're tired, Alce'. Go find the boys, drink something, play some cards, and I'll call you when I need you here. You too, Febo, Anton."_

There was several seconds of silence then, and McGee wondered if they were missing a silent communication somehow.

"_Si, capo_."

Whatever they had silently exchanged, Tony's orders had prevailed. There were steps echoing, nothing for a long moment, then a sigh and some fumbling that messed with the audio.

"_Ohh, I see now, Fonzie,_" Masen said, more darkly, "_Is that why they say you don't __**kill**__? Is __**that**__ your style? You make your friends leave and slowly take your clothes off?_ "

McGee's blood turned to ice and he froze, the skin of his face tickled as it always did when he was suddenly feeling ill and paled in seconds.

"Oh my," Ducky smartly said just as Palmer gasped.

Nobody could have missed the meaning behind Masen's last remarks, and McGee could feel his heart beating like crazy in his chest and his hands throbbed with the very unusual need to hurt someone. How could anyone dare say that to Tony?

But Tony... laughed, effectively shutting the other man up.

"_Oh, Masen. pretty soon, you're gonna wish that that was really my style_."

.

McGee's hand came crashing on the keyboard of Abby's computer, and the sound stopped. He didn't turn to face the music, he didn't even realize what he was doing as he did it, but something in him had just snapped. It was Tony's voice. _Their_ Tony's voice, saying this last thing. It wasn't even cold like they'd sometimes heard when Tony addressed particularly bad suspects (in cases involving children, generally). No, it was really the tone and ways of _their_ Tony. But the words... The words and their implication were terrifying.

And they'd seen Tony that very morning. They'd seen him smile and wink and give his adored mighty mouse stapler not knowing that a few days earlier he'd been facing that man, Masen, saying those things and being terrifying. How was that possible?

"Abigail, dear girl, maybe you could make things easier for us – though I am sure it wasn't for you – and tell us in advance what we are about to hear? It is a very distressing discussion we are discovering, and perhaps knowing will help ease-"

"There isn't much more. He explains, then shuts it off."

Abby's voice was blank, and she didn't wait a second, pushing Tim away by the wrist and starting the recording again.

There was a long pause after Tony's confident last statement.

"_I'm not afraid of you." _

"_You're repeating yourself, kid." _

There was the sound of something being dragged, maybe a chair?

"_Do you know," _Tony resumed, "_whose house you attacked? Wait, of course you know. Lorenzo Anconetti, you probably had the name and address for your hit_._ I don't think you __know a lot about the big families of Baltimore, Mr. Masen, and thus I'm pretty sure you had no idea who Anconetti was. But you cannot ignore who Say-your-prayer, the enforcer, is, can you? So tell me, please, what kind of future exactly did you think you'd have after you killed Lorenzo Say-your-prayer's __**son**__?_"

"_You're lying." _

Tony actually chuckled.

"_And here you were, so sure that you'd have no payback to fear from us because you heard '_killing was not my style'_. How cute. Do you know then, Mr. Masen, that Lorenzo is now with his grieving wife, having the whole town warned that the men responsible were to be given to him? You may not like us, Mr. Masen, but you know our name. We're the Achenzas, and Lorenzo has made his own reputation with us, so when he asks the city for something, do you know what the city does? It falls on its knees, and delivers it. In. His. Hands." _

There was another pause, and in Gibbs's basement, momentarily devoid of boat, nobody moved an inch.

"_Not so talkative now, are we?"_

"_Why aren't you handing us to him then?" _

Another pregnant silence gave McGee the creeps.

"_Why, Mr. Masen, because _killing is not my style. _I find it to be much too easy._"

.

.

"_Your boss wanted to hurt Lorenzo just like he'd been hurt, right?"_

"_An eye for an eye_," Masen interrupted, gaining some of his composure back.

"_How cliché of you to say,_" Tony went on, unfazed. "_And how dumb of your boss. Here he is now, even with Lorenzo, sure, but what about me, Mr. Masen? Do you think he thought of that?_"

"_You have nothing to do with our business_," Masen answered with real spite again.

"H_ow do you think? You said it, right? An eye for an eye? Well, what does Haynes get for destroying one of mine? Should I just pick the kid of one of his men too? Hey, Masen, do _**you**_ have a kid_?"

Abby moved to hold her head in her hands but stayed perfectly silent.

"_What do you think Haynes should get for killing a kid he knew had nothing to do with his father anymore? _

"_I'm going to tell you something, Mr. Masen, because I know you won't repeat it to anyone. It's gonna be our secret_," Tony said as if they were confiding over tea. "_I had a plan. A big, flawless plan. At the end, I'd have gotten some headslaps, but at least loose ends would be tied, you know? So it was worth it. Rule 45: clean up your own mess. Damn, I grew so tired of the rules. But this time, so many of them applied. Rule 4, 7, 16, 18, even blessed rule 27. _

" _But the 40's, you know, they're really for emergencies. And here I am, working on rule 44: first things first, protect the women and children. Damn, Francesca was both," _Tony said and after a few seconds, chuckled humourlessly again.

"_What the hell are you-?" _

"_Don't interrupt, Mr. Masen, it's rude." _

Tony's words were still coated with politeness but the fake friendliness was slowly vanishing, leaving a creeping coldness that could only be described as frightening.

"_But now, Mr. Masen, the plan is ruined. Do you know why? Because of you. Because of you and the stronzo that's your boss. Because you two made me watch something I didn't want to watch. Something I hadn't expected. You made me watch a kid's brains explode on his house, and his brother walking in it. Do you understand what has to happen now? You touched my people thinking you could actually get away with it, and maybe it's because of me. Maybe you didn't understand who I was, or how I worked. Obviously you didn't understand that going after anyone of mine is going personally after me. And now you have to understand that people that go after me-_"

There was a snatching sound and some more fumbling with the mic, and McGee could very well picture Tony taking it off from wherever he had hidden it on him.

"_- well, they usually die trying."_

"_What are you –" _

"_You made me drop my plan, Masen," _Tony's voice, dark but strangely crazed, said.

Then there was an explosion with the mic, and everybody winced as Abby rearranged the sound on her computer.

"_Lucky me, I learned how to improvise."_

The mic being crushed was the last sound recorded.

.

_Heroes have honour_.

.

* * *

><p><strong>Do tell me what you thought, <strong>I'm actually very insecure about this one

(and my apologies to my beta, who had to listen to me babble about everything I thought was wrong)

.


	19. Chapter 19

So so so happy you didn't resent the kinda-dark turn the story took in chapter 18. I tried to make this one less intense, though what happens is equally important in my eyes. You may think there are lots of small things, but in the end, nothing is ever really inconsequent.

Some grieve the loss of Tony to the dark side, but lots think it logical and not fatally a bad thing. Others still believe there's a great twist to come. Of course, I cannot divulge anything, but I'm still glad you take the time to even _have_ hypotheses.

As a whole, I think most think whatever Tony's decision ends up being, it'll be the good one/for the good reasons/... and that means you trust my Tony – which is just about great.

LOVE that you grew attached to the new characters. The story would lose half its depth if you guys never found the new people interesting.

Some of you even hold this story amongst their favourites, and for that I thank you and bow to your graciousness in general, for without your constructive reviews, I would probably take ages to write each chapter (by that, I mean MORE than I already take), or even just quit. You make me WANT to go on.

Of course, special thank to my beta, Deborah, for without her you'd be having lots of non-sense.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**Chapter 19 **-

"This makes no sense. He wouldn't do that to us. Going rogue means putting the whole team on the line and he knows it. He knows Gibbs's been protecting him from Vance and the FBI!" McGee said in frustration.

They'd been down there in Gibbs's basement for more than two hours, first silent and then talking everything out. They'd been scanning every word exchanged with Tony, every move, every action he'd done (that they knew of) in hope of _understanding_. Only their boss was strangely quiet. In fact, the last thing Gibbs had done was break the silence that had followed the end of the recording. "Well, start!" he'd ordered. Just as if they were in the bullpen working a case. Except now, _Tony_ was the case.

"You're right, they'll open an investigation on the team," Ziva nodded.

Her eyes still travelled to Abby's computer from time to time. She stared at it for a few seconds and then brought her attention back to Gibbs. Abby had warned right away that she wasn't going to be involved in their discussion. She had brought headphones and was now listening to other parts of the tapes Tony'd given her, not paying any attention to the five people racking their brains behind her. Sometimes she'd raise her head, as if she'd heard something special, than shake it softly and start typing on her keyboard before stilling again.

"No," Gibbs said, his voice more raucous than usual, and finally moving from his place by his working table. He sighed (which was enough to actually concern McGee over his health) and passed his hands through his hair in a familiar gesture that wasn't _his_. "The tapes, they're our way out."

"Oh yes, Jethro, I believe you're very right. Anthony must have thought it would be enough to protect the team against any accusation on its involvement."

"That way we can pretend it was an actual undercover operation," McGee murmured as understanding dawned. His head hurt and his eyelids were heavy, but the uneasiness in his chest was getting worse. "He did think about everything."

"Of course Tony would find a way to keep us out of trouble," Ziva said before standing up for no reason and folding her arms under her chest.

McGee glanced at her and her posture reminded him of a few days earlier, after that man broke into her house. She'd held herself that way when she thought no one could see her. It was like she was trying to hug herself to keep warm. All day long, while they were trying to find who that guy was and what he had wanted, Tim would turn to check on his partner, and more often than not she'd have that lost in thoughts look, and her arms clutching her chest.

Abby made a frustrated noise that brought all five eyes on her. She'd done that several times already.

"Abs, what is it?" Gibbs finally asked after he'd called her to him with a soft touch on the shoulder.

"They keep talking in … quotes or lines, I think I miss some of the references."

"Movies?"

"No, Tony and Elena, they don't actually talk a lot but when they do, it's Shakespeare and Byron and probably other ones I didn't notice. They just slid lines that work into the conversation and I guess it _means_ something, but I don't know what."

"Tony? Shakespeare?" Jimmy asked, surprised.

"Yes, Jimmy! I have yet to hear a single movie line, and you know what else? He keeps listening to classical music when he's by himself. No Sinatra or anything. Mozart, Wagner and Schubert."

The news seemed particularly upsetting to Abby for some reason, and Gibbs pressed his hand on her shoulder, comforting.

"You _do_ know him, Abby," Gibbs said softly, probably guessing what was on the Goth's mind (as he always did). "Just because we didn't know he liked classical music or literature doesn't mean we don't know the man," he said softly.

Abby was looking up at him with her big, watery, doe eyes and Tim cursed mentally, blaming each and everyone for the messed up situation they were in. He cursed Achenza, that Elena woman, Tony and even his old department, Baltimore, for sending him undercover in the first place. And for making Abby so sad now.

"If that's true, what is he doing there right now? And what did he do to the man in the tape we heard? I'm scared, Gibbs. I can't think anymore, things are all jumbled up together in my head."

She leant forward, letting her head rest on Gibbs's chest.

"And why did he say his goodbyes?" she resumed, her voice a whisper as her eyes, wide open, contained real fear mixed with heart wrenching sadness.

_Damn you, Tony, whatever game you're playing._

"He says goodbye every time he goes for a vacation," Palmer said, intervening in the private scene with his usual sincere bluntness.

"He gave McGee his stapler. His _Mighty Mouse _stapler! And Ziva said she found his Ohio State sweatshirt at her place. He gave me a CD besides the recordings. He gave us all gifts!"

McGee could have sworn he saw Gibbs's shoulders stiffen momentarily.

.

.

The best word to describe the team in the bullpen was subdued. Yes, subdued. Or like they were missing a piece. Not only because of the obvious absence of one of them, but because everyone could _feel_ something was off, something was wrong, something bad was about to happen, and no one could tell _what_.

McGee knew they'd have a new piece of the answer when Fornell appeared out of the _director's_ office. They hadn't seen him enter, so it could only mean he'd come before they arrived – before 0730? Both Director Vance -who was following the FBI agent- and Fornell looked like they were lacking sleep, and Tim wondered if anyone at all had managed to rest normally the previous night.

"Agent Gibbs, we have a new development in the Achenza case," Vance said as he arrived in the bullpen with his usual confident stride.

"I thought we said there was no case. Not an NCIS one at least, Director." Gibbs answered without missing a beat, but taking his glasses off to stare at the two newcomers.

"The FBI has one. And it's a big fat one, Gibbs."

"And the navy is involved?"

Gibbs could act thick when he wanted to. Tim knew what was coming before the actual words were said. He realized he wasn't sure he _wanted_ to have that missing piece of information after all.

"_DiNutzzo_ certainly is," Agent Tobias Fornell said.

He didn't dare smirk in his usual smart way, probably sensing that it was still way too soon for sarcasm.

"I think you'll want to watch this, Agent Gibbs." Leon said neutrally, tilting his head toward MTAC.

If Gibbs was surprised, he didn't show it. He just got up and followed his superior. Fornell took a last glance at Tim and Ziva, who were staring silently. Fornell frowned at their unflinching gazes and went after the others, disappearing behind a secured door.

"Campfire!" McGee and Ziva called in one voice. They smirked at their synchronisation and rolled their chairs near Tony's desk to spin hypotheses on this _new developmen_t.

Elena found him with a drink in one hand and screening the titles of the hundreds of books perfectly lined behind the protection of wood and glass on the wall of Carmine's office, just behind the seat the Father favoured.

"Which one are you looking for?"

"Your favourite," he said with a smile in his voice, his eyes not straying.

"Ah, then Achilles is back among us."

"I never understood that idea of yours. Equating me to Achilles."

"There's the narcissism, the ego, the need for glory, do you really need more?"

He finally turned to find her teasing expression and rolled his eyes. They both knew he didn't have any of those characteristics. Not really, at least. They certainly didn't drive him like they drove the Greek legend, Achilles.

Elena brushed past him without unlocking their gazes, and placed herself between his body and the shelves. She tilted her head and smiled that secret smile of hers before turning toward the books, her back pressed against his chest. She found the book he sought right away, and pulled it out with a finger.

"_Sing, Goddess, of the rage, of Peleus' son Achilles_

_the accursed rage, which brought pain to thousands of the Achaeans,_" she read the first lines softly.

"Yes, that _is_ what I was looking for," he said in a distant voice. She stopped and closed the leather bound book, but didn't turn around.

"Tell me," she finally asked, ever so soft.

He didn't say anything for a long moment, then drank from his glass before putting it aside on the first table he found.

"You kept comparing me to Achilles, but you know I don't really want the glory. The only other thing there is to compare is the rage, Elena. The _accursed rage_. So you already know."

He took the book from her hands and she didn't resist.

"Don't you understand? They killed Patroclus," he added, and he couldn't see it but his eyes were haunted as he placed the book near the glass and grabbed her by the shoulders so she would look at him straight into them. So she could _see_ what he knew he was. What he hated he was.

"They killed Patroclus," he simply repeated, and he knew she'd understand.

It was simple, really. She was the one that used to tell him he was Achilles after all. She knew the story. In the Trojan war, Hector, the Trojan Prince and Achilles's enemy kills Patroclus during a battle, thinking he was Achilles himself. The death of Patroclus, a friend so close he was considered family, sends Achilles's into madness. He becomes more than a simple human, kills everyone on his way to Hector. Defies him. Kills him. And leaves the corpse to rot.

Simple, really.

Elena didn't say anything for a long time. She just placed her hand on his heaving chest and waited, her eyes not leaving his for a second, fighting everything Tonio's were trying to impose. She probably knew she was losing too. Antonio's eyes could never be beaten. So she finally said the words. The ones she knew he needed to hear but wouldn't accept.

"This is not war, Antonio. This is not Troy, they are not Hector, and Enzo was not Patroclus. Achilles choked the water with the blood of the people he killed in his rage before finally finding Hector. Don't you see, you _can't_ be Achilles that way."

"You're right, Elena. Enzo is not Patroclus. You, Francesca, Ciara, Julian, Alceo and every one else... you _all_ are Patroclus. Mine to protect.

"And '_My rage, my fury would drive me now to hack their flesh away and eat them raw – such agonies they have cause Me."_" he declaimed, his voice strong and carrying through the room and beyond even though he hadn't raised it.

There was another tense silence, interrupted only by his heavy breathing as tension travelled through his veins and loosened his muscles like only the worst rages could. He was tense when annoyed. He was the exact opposite when ferocity seized him.

"But don't worry, Elena. I always thought you were wrong on every point, comparing me to him," he said, a fake smile plastered on his face. "For starters, I don't just allow madness to swallow me whole," he added with a shrug.

And more importantly, Achilles was a hero.

He took her hand in his and made her swirl like he had before, years earlier. Her body followed his slight twist of the wrist immediately, undulating as if her very core was tied to his hand as he conducted her. They ended up in a position they were both familiar with, facing each other, one of his hand holding hers, the other around her waist. They moved to an inexistent tune they both remembered perfectly well. His thumb grazed her back at the spot that had been unveiled that day, nine years before on that charity gala Carmine had thrown. "_Together, we are perfection." _

Elena didn't see her dance partner close his eyes as if hurting somewhere, before shaking his head and simply smiling.

_'Heart like iron',_ Tony remembered as their imagined tune drew to an end. _'Relentless as Hades." _Words from the Iliad came to him and he let the feminine hand in his go.

"You can call Carmine now, I know it's time."

.

.

Tim answered his desk's phone at the first ring.

"_McGee, bring Ducky to MTAC now, we need him." _

"Everyone's okay, boss?"

"_I want a quick psych eval, no one's dead in MTAC, McGee_." Gibbs's tone may have been sarcastic, the simple fact that he was actually explaining meant he was reassuring his agent. Tim had learnt to read the small details. Kind of.

"Got it, boss."

"_Oh and McGee, just tell Ziva to come and bring Abby with her instead of hacking into the system to watch the feed._"

"Got it, boss," McGee repeated unabashedly as he smiled at his partner. Small victories.

They both hurried off when he hung up and explained. They had travelled down and back up in record time, even fire drills didn't usually give them that sense of urgency.

"Read this and tell me how good he is in undercover ops," Gibbs said without preamble as he placed a file between Ducky's hands and his chest. The ME fumbled with it but didn't comment right away, finding a seat to start his study instead.

"I suppose I don't have to ask what kind of undercover operation we are talking about?" Ducky said as he scanned the first page.

Gibbs threw him an obvious look and Ducky sighed, nodded, and dove back in.

On the large screen they were all facing, McGee recognized the quality of a spy camera implanted on a moving person. They couldn't see who was wearing the bug, but they could see what laid ahead of him as he was obviously ushered into a large mansion by several men in dark costumes.

"They're in, we're working on the audio" a voice said, and Fornell explained it was the leader of the FBI team in charge of the operation. He and his team were in a van a few streets away from Carmine Achenza's Mansion, ready to intervene if the mission was shot to hell.

McGee's mouth nearly dropped open when he understood what was going on.

"You sent an FBI agent undercover with the Achenzas," Ziva declared just then, not even putting the interrogation mark at the end of her sentence.

"When did that op even begin? How did you manage to get him in?" McGee immediately asked as he stepped level with the other three men while Abby found a seat next to Ducky's and Ziva folded her hands under her chest, keeping her expression neutral.

"He's not _in_ yet," Gibbs intervened, his icy tone obviously directed at Fornell in what was classic -disapproval.

"The Agnesini brothers love him, and they're close to the capo of the family. And by that I mean that they're close to _DiNozzo," _Agent Fornell bit back.

"He hasn't been introduced to any of the big dogs so he's _not_ in yet. And we don't know who the hell he is or if he can handle this kind of op."

"He's being introduced to everyone today along with three other new recruits, Gibbs. And only _you_ don't know who he is. He's our top undercover agent and he has more than15 years of experience that DiNozzo did _not_ have when _he_ was sent in 9 years ago."

Gibbs growled in response and moved a step forward, ready to enter Fornell's personal space as he always did during confrontations, but Ducky interrupted him.

"I have to admit, his resume is impressive, Jethro. Agent Dunfield does have a lot of experience in the field, most of his missions were successful and not one of the failed ones was due to his cover being blown. He has already played the part of an Italian American one – two – three times and fluently speaks the language because he actually lived there. Agent Dunfield has obvious skills in acting and appears to be intuitive enough to adapt quickly. I really can't see anything wrong in his file."

"See, Gibbs?" Agent Fornell said rolling his eyes, "now maybe you can stop fidgeting long enough for us to actually focus on the operation. I swear I don't know why I decided to come warn you. Should have just sent Sticks or Locker to do the job," he went on grumbling.

"Maybe your agent is really good, Fornell, but that's not the question -" Gibbs started to sat but was interrupted by a shrill whistling sound followed by the live audio feed going with the video on the screen.

"We have eyes and ears, people, we're totally in!" the leader of the operation's voice rung in MTAC.

"Gentlemen, if you could stop bickering now, we could maybe take a mic and try to help the FBI team in charge," Vance scolded sarcastically with his usual raised eyebrow.

Gibbs and Fornell exchanged glares but they nodded (Fornell just shrugged, weary) and Vance gave them both MTAC headsets before he place his own on his head.

"Director Vance, NCIS, in for Operation Achenza."

"Agent Fornell, in."

"Agent Gibbs, in," the two others called.

"Welcome agents, I'm Agent Walls, this operation is my baby, don't screw it up."

Gibbs shook his head, Fornell snorted, Vance assured they'd try not to.

They were quickly informed that Agent Dunfield, under the name Dorian Aconi, had met and befriended the younger of the three Agnesini brothers, who were known to work for the Achenzas directly under Alceo Peasci, obvious right hand of the current capo of the house, Antonio DiNozzo. He'd managed to hint he was looking for more than a job and the Agnesinis had said they'd see what they could do. There were three other men wanting in, and the four of them had been waiting for an audience with a member of the administration since for ever. For one reason or another, that day something special required the presence of every Achenza famiglia member in town. The Mansion was crawling with people, "Dorian Aconi" had been warned he'd be introduced that day.

"They don't gather everyone for four new guys," Gibbs said.

"We know. Whatever reason they're all there, it ought to be big. That's why it's the first time Dunfield's going in bugged. It's the finest technology, Agents, invisible to the naked eye.""

Gibbs didn't answer.

"Radio silence, now."

"What a majestic house," Ducky said to no one in particular as Dunfield was directed into the crowd of people.

The man leading him and the three other new guys was Febo Zorzetti (by now, the MCRT knew all the major actors by name), Alceo Peasci's second. Zorzetti was looking busy, talking and welcoming everyone in and asking them to wait while keeping an eye on the four men he had to escort. They were navigating through a sea of men and women, obviously Italians, chatting, laughing, eating and drinking like it was a party and they were actually celebrating something. They weren't overly effusive though, as if some reservation still hung over the occasion.

McGee was getting uneasy.

The group of five finally arrived in a secluded wing where only the occasional servant appeared. The emptiness of the rooms and corridors they passed made them look all the more sumptuous in a classic genre of _bon gout, _and Ducky made quiet comments as they advanced into the Mansion. Finally, Zorzetti stopped and opened a door on the right, and they entered a room that looked more like a classy waiting room than anything else. There were two beautifully crafted wooden doors on each side of a line of chairs facing a coffee table. The three other newbies kept eying both doors in obvious nervousness. So the big dogs were close.

"Wait here. Seriously, don't go anywhere," Febo warned as he opened the intriguing left door and vanished from their sight.

The four men waited in silence, and five minutes later a stream of men in classy suits started arriving, some acknowledging the four waiting men with a nod, others not, and all disappearing behind the left door.

When the flow finally stopped, a petite woman walked out, not throwing a look at the "_new guys_" as she stomped past them and disappeared behind the right door with an angry huff. Francesca DiNocci, everyone in MTAC recognized. She had the puffy red eyes of someone that had been crying. Not ten seconds later, a tall, well built, brown haired man with startling green eyes and an easy smile appeared in the same way.

"Tony," three voices in MTAC said at once.

Tonio was about to follow the woman into the other room when he noticed the presence of the four men comically sitting between the two doors with the same lost and nervous expression on their faces. Though obviously having other concerns in mind, the smile he directed at them seemed genuinely friendly, and so an amiable Tony presented each one of the men his hand, actually taking the time to introduce himself.

"_Ciao_, you must be the new members. I'm Antonio, pleased to meet you."

The men smiled and answered with little reserve, apparently happy someone had deigned acknowledge them.

Of course that someone would be Tony. McGee unfastened his collar and pulled on it.

"Did a lady in green go that way?" he asked with a charming smile, pointing to the right room. They nodded, he followed.

Muffled cries ensued. They couldn't hear every word of it, not in MTAC anyway, but they all got the gist of it. Francesca was not happy about something.

Not too long after that, another man came into the field of vision of the camera out of the blue.

In MTAC, everyone tensed at once.

The sight wasn't actually a frightening one. It was an older man, still standing strong with blue smiling eyes and an amiable air that gave a strange _deja vu _feeling_._ Carmine Achenza was an exact repeat of Tony's earlier reaction at the sight of the waiting men. The Father had been about to walk without paying any attention, but when he'd seen them, he had stopped, smiled and introduced himself – just his name – before asking if they'd seen a young woman and a tall man leave the room before him. He obviously knew the answer but waited for one of the "new guys" to tell him, nodded, and left.

McGee hated how alike Tony and Carmine's reactions had unknowingly been. He hated that Tony wasn't acting cold or didn't even seem to _be acting_ at all. He looked exactly like friendly Tony from the office. Tim didn't even find it in him to turn and check on Abby. He had to focus.

"-'ll be miserable!" Francesca's muffled voice said through the doors.

"- disrespect your father," Tony's barely recognizable voice commanded.

Then there was something resembling a "Which one?" coming through the doors.

Next, a calm but carrying voice said with crystal clear clarity (which meant the other two had been trying to be discreet):

"Don't sadden yourself over his happiness, Francesca. Some men are made to be happy. Some are born to be great."

On those words, the door opened again, and both men appeared on camera again, looking solemn. Achenza looked like the precedent argument had not upset him in the slightest way. Tony looked more grave.

"Shall we?" Carmine Achenza said with what sounded like actual, unbridled mirth.

Tony glanced at the door they'd just left before he smoothed his already perfect suit. For a second, McGee thought he caught regret in the way he looked at the door hiding Francesca. But then that look vanished, and instead a small smile stretched his lips. "Let's."

They went back to where they came from and before the door could close behind them, Alceo Peasci's head popped through the door-frame :

"He said you could come in, but don't open your mouths until you're talked to. And don"t stare. _Capice_?"

"_Si_," the four men – among whom Agent Dunfield – said in unison.

They entered the room, granting MTAC access to what was behind that mysterious left door. A large office. On one side of the room stood a crafted desk with three chairs, and on the other one, two couches were facing each other along with a few additional luxurious chairs. Several men were standing by the couches, all watching Carmine, sitting behind his large, solid, glossy desk.

He was like a King, calmly waiting for the last of his subjects to take place before he could start. He sat there, eyeing the men and only woman -Elena Filangieri- before him with a magnanimous air that didn't hide his nearly ostentatious satisfaction. The only other man _sitting_ was Tony, who had taken the biggest leather chair there was by the sitting room suite. He was like the Prince, overseeing his Father's subjects in his own regal way, his approachable, easy manner now dissipated.

The new aura McGee had lately started to notice exuded from him. Power. Control. Nearly palpable authority.

Oh no.

"Oh no."

McGee didn't even notice he'd talked out loud.

"Tony," Ziva murmured by his side, just as aware of what was about to happen. Tim made several steps back until the back of his knees hit a chair and he fell into it rather than sat. Ziva walked forward, going impossibly close to the large screen.

.

"My friends," Carmine Achenza finally began, raising his hands in a welcoming gesture, "after several decades during which you've honoured me with your trust, let me introduce you to Anthony Junior, born DiNozzo, made Achenza. **You can call him Father.**"

.

.

Carmine rose swiftly from his chair and walked to Tony's. The younger man looked up, smiled, and got up too. Together, they walked back to the desk and when they drew closer Carmine reached Tony's cheek with his hand, then grabbed his neck in a manly sign of affection. The older man stared into his successor's eyes with pride evidently glowing around him.

"We make choices," Carmine talked softly but real, genuine emotion gave a strong edge to his voice.

"_E non ci dispiace_," Tony answered, his voice just as solid, his eyes and whole posture an evidence of authority mixed with deference to the man he addressed.

Behind him, Tim heard Ziva translate "_and we never regret_", but barely noticed her, his senses overwhelmed by what was happening. What had happened.

Tony was... _Their Tony_ was …

He couldn't even realize it.

Tony was –

"Don Achenza," Joseph, the old _consigliere_, came forth just as Tony sat in the large chair behind the desk. Carmine Achenza's chair. The Famiglia's Father's chair.

The old man bowed and took Tony's hand, kissing it before he walked back and another man, Alceo Peasci, replaced him.

"Don Achenza," Peasci said with a small smile, and Tony chuckled and shook softly his head, but didn't say anything, letting the man take his hand and bring it to his face too.

One by one, every man in the room followed Joseph's example. Carmine, standing one step behind Tony's chair, on the side, never wavered. He observed every exchange with obvious delectation. His satisfaction was nearly too hard to witness for McGee, whose heart was growing more resentful with each man bowing to his _partner_.

The dead silence in MTAC only added to the stifling ambiance.

"Do we go too?" the youngest one of the _new guys_ asked to the three others. They had stayed back, behind the farthest couch, watching as the Famiglia's history was being written before their very eyes.

"You don't do anything before someone tells you to, _stupido_," Febo answered as he arrived just in time.

On the other side of the room, all the men were mingling, talking, Tony playing the perfect host as he chuckled and joked without losing that weird air he now wore.

"Father's gonna see you one by one, but not here. He wants to do it as soon as possible so he can get it over with and go on with his business. Follow me," Zorzetti added as the left the room unnoticed. To the waiting room again.

"You should realize how lucky you are, arriving on a day like that," Febo went on, his slight accent getting more pronounced as he talked. "You don't get to meet the whole administration in lots of occasions. And the day a new Don is made, the family is always more … compromising, so everything should go smoothly for you. Plus, Don Tonio knows about the things going down by the South district, with Haynes's factories and all. I think he'll have what you need to get back on your feet, you two," he said, addressing Agent Dunfield and the only other man in the group who was close to his age.

Tim remembered Dunfield's story was that he'd been fired by the new owner of a factory along with dozens of others. Apparently, Vinny, the other man Zorzetti had looked at when talking, had been too. Vinny threw a strange look at Dunfield, as if trying to place his face, but then shrugged and thanked Febo.

Well that was bad luck. If Vinny started asking questions about what exactly Dunfield had been doing-

"There's been a lot of factories firing Italian-Americans in the South area these past few years, all after they'd been bought by the same man. There's no problem here," Fornell said before Gibbs could point out yet another flaw in the plan.

McGee could breathe easier.

.

After another session of waiting around, Tony arrived in front of them with Elena by his side. The second he arrived, the four men jumped to their feet, one of them – the younger, probably barely out of high school- stumbled and nearly fell face first in his haste. Tony was quick to help, and didn't let go until the kid had found his balance.

The young man's face turned bright red as he stuttered an excuse, looking at his shoes, and Tony had that comforting face his friends knew well that told he was about to reassure the kid with a joke or something. He opened his mouth with a smile, but before he actually said anything, his eyes seemed to catch something else. They shined with something cold as he turned slightly to angle his body toward the last man there. The one that wasn't Dunfield or Vinny or the kid. He was pretty young too, and as Agent Dunfield shifted to get away from Tony's stare down, McGee could see what Tony had seen. The sneer on that man's face. Oh yes, McGee knew that sneer very well. It was the one that usually preceded mocking words or outright bullying in every school playground.

"Something funny?" Tony's voice was so different than seconds before that the man seemed confused for a moment.

"No," he finally said, shaking his head before throwing another contemptuous look at the other kid (still staring at the ground). Then, raising his chin, he extended his hand to Tony: "I'm Mike," he added with confidence.

Tony's eyes looked down on the arm waiting under his chin, and Tim could have laughed at the contempt and coldness that were his only answer: the face of _Mike_ was priceless.

"Who's this clown?" Tony asked at large, his eyes not leaving the man in question, who looked like he was shrivelling.

"Lanky Danny said he had potential," Febo explained, shrugging.

"Yeah? And was Lanky Danny drunk again when he told you that?"

"Don't think so," Febo said, barely hiding his smile.

"Then out of respect for our friend Danny, you're going to call Nicholas and tell him to introduce Mike the Clown to Lorenzo. I don't want him around me, but if Lorenzo wants him, he can keep him."

Febo's smile widened but he looked down as he nodded and hurried inside the room they'd left to call 'Nicholas'. The middle Agnesini brother didn't wait a second, taking Mike by the shoulder he pushed him forth with no tact. They left the room immediately.

Tony's smile was back full force the second the clown was gone. Febo chuckled and Elena shook her head.

"In the state Lorenzo's in, he's gonna eat the kid alive," Zorzetti warned.

"Oh, you think? Lorenzo said he needed new guys, and that one looked funny enough, so I figured, maybe he could be in charge of the entertainment or something," Tony said with a smirk that was not half as innocent as his tone. Febo was apparently finding it all hilarious, but he tried to rein it in.

Tony just smiled at his man and winked at Elena before turning back to the stumbling kid.

"And who are you, _ragazzo_?"

"I'm – I'm Juni. Miss Marta told me to come here, Sir."

Febo's hand whacked the back of the kid's head in a smooth movement, and something twinkled in Tony's eyes.

"It's Father to you," Zorzetti explained.

Juni's head fell lower still, the tip of his ears looking red even from MTAC.

"Look up, Juni. I know Miss Marta, she's a good woman, an old friend of mine, and if she told you to come here it means I can help you. Don't take the headslaps too seriously, we're a family here, and it's just a way to show our affection."

Tim barely had the time to reflect on everything that sentence could mean when Tony suddenly slapped the back of Febo's head on camera, surprising the man, before looking back with an amused smile at the Juni kid.

"See?

Zorzetti chuckled again and smiled at the youngest man of the party.

"Let's talk now, Juni," Tony added, putting his hand on his shoulder to guide him to the right door. Elena followed soundlessly, and they disappeared.

.

They were inside more than twenty minutes before Juni finally walked out, looking exhausted but relieved. The other men had started to talk while waiting, and McGee had been surprised at the ease with which Agent Dunfield lied his way through it all. Listening to "Dorian Aconi" talk with "Vinny" and Febo Zorzetti, you could think they were all becoming fast friends.

There was a sort of kinship in the way Febo talked about how it would be once in the family, and Tim could understand how appealing it could appear for people who'd lost their way. There was nothing remotely illegal about what Zorzetti was explaining. He was just saying that Don Tonio and the Famiglia could help them find another job, perhaps a better one. It sounded like they just wanted to help. Vinny had said he didn't want to go back to the South District, and they had started talking about how the area had changed in the past few years. Agent Dunfield sounded like a real native, like he'd really witnessed every change they mentioned. Tim himself could have forgotten the man was actually an Agent.

When Juni was back into the spy cam's field of vision, he looked a bit shaken and had to sit where he'd been before to regain his composure.

"How was it?" Vinny asked, looking more concerned for the young man than for himself.

"I don't get it. He said I have to graduate high-school. I haven't been at school for months, but he said he'd have me enrolled back in senior year and the family'd help me with it till graduation."

"Well then, if he said it, it'll happen, kid! And how the hell are you still in high-school, how old are you?" Febo said good naturedly. "Wait, hey, Dorian, your turn, go in there."

Agent Dunfield walked into the right room before he could hear the answer of Juni.

He arrived into a smaller study with just a simple desk behind which Tony was sitting, and two chairs, one occupied by Elena. The wall behind the desk was covered in leather-bound books and Elena had apparently taken a few of them as she was going through a large one. McGee thought she might have been reading a piece out loud because both she and Tony were laughing when 'Dorian' arrived.

"Oh, hi, you're Aconi, right?"

"Si," Agent Dunfield said.

He was playing it respectful but cool and confident. It fit his large body and his age -he was no kid.

"Sit, please."

Tony took a few seconds to stare at Elena while she was now silently reading her book, apparently not paying any attention to the two other men. The new _Don_ had a contented small smile still stretching his lips, remnants of the laugh Dorian had interrupted. Agent Dunfield didn't open his mouth.

"Can I call you Dorian, Mr. Aconi?" Tony randomly said, barely looking away from the woman opposite him.

"Of course, Don Achenza."

Tony nodded absent-mindedly before he shook himself and finally looked straight at the undercover Agent.

"Is Dorian short for Doriano?"

"Yes, but only my mother called me Doriano," Dunfield said naturally.

"Yes, mothers tend to stick to the name they've chosen, don't they?" Tony said, amused. Then after a pause, "And do you like music, Dorian?"

"I like it alright. Not big on the new stuff though."

"Ah? What kind do you like best?" Tony asked, while his eyes travelled back to Elena almost involuntarily.

Oh God. He really was attached to that woman.

"The kind my aunts and mother used to sing when we lived in Italy."

Tony didn't ask where and when that was. He was still unfocused. The only time McGee had seen his partner like that was when he had been tired like hell and … secretly with Jeanne Bennoit.

"And do you play any instrument?"

Gibbs took off the headsets from his head in a brusk movement but his squinting eyes were still locked on the screen. Tim barely noticed.

"Not really. I learned the guitar when I was young, but it was just to impress a girl and I forgot after a while."

Tony seemed to call back his attention from the unaware woman in the room and chuckled.

"Ah yes, what we wouldn't do for a woman. And did you get her?"

"No, she was ten years older than me. And I was twelve," Dunfield said self-deprecatingly. Tony actually laughed at that one. Elena Filangieri smiled but didn't look up.

"Elena, please, could you ask Alceo to find the bag I brought with me yesterday? I couldn't find it anywhere, and I need it now to show something to Mr. Aconi."

Elena rose and left the room in what seemed like one swift movement. Tony's eyes were glued to the door by which she left for a few seconds.

.

"He's onto Dunham, get him out," Gibbs said out of the blue.

It had Fornell and Vance look at him in surprise.

"What are you talking about, the only thing I see is that DiNozzo is hot for the girl. Dunfield is doing perfect out there," Fornell defended right away.

"You don't see it because you don't know him. I do, that's DiNozzo we're talking about, he doesn't follow the rules you push down every FBI recruit's throats. _This_ is an interrogation!" Gibbs yelled, pointing at the screen.

"We knew Dunfield'd have to pass one at some point and he's doing fine! DiNozzo's barely listening."

"Damn, Fornell, you may think your agent is good, but I _know_ mine is better!"

"You're still calling him your agent, Gibbs? That's cute. The guy's now the head of the biggest mafia family of Baltimore, but yeah, he's your agent, and you think you know him like the back of your hand!"

That had to sting. Gibbs turned to Vance for support but the director only put his toothpick back between his lips and turned back to the screen. He had acted weird all along. McGee had thought he wouldn't hesitate to rub salt into the wound. Criticizing Tony had always been one of his favourite games after all, why wasn't he saying anything now?

"Alceo told me about you, Dorian. I've been very interested in your history with a certain Mr. Haynes. His activities are of particular interest to me."

"He bought half the district in four years and has been firing people ever since for no reason."

Dunfield sounded like he was actually resentful, and Tim was impressed. Without Elena in the room, Tony looked interested.

"Alceo said you were the manager of a section of the factory."

"It wasn't anything big, just had to figure out the schedules of a few men so we didn't all do the same think at once, you know."

"Could you manage the whole factory?"

"What?"

Tony chuckled at the surprise in _Dorian_'s voice. He seemed pleased with himself.

"It's the good news we will soon be able to share with all of our fired friends. Mr. Haynes will not stay very long in Baltimore, you see, and I think the managing crew he has installed this past few years will not stay long either. We're looking for their future replacements."

McGee had no idea what they were talking about, and it made him realize how real this was. Tony was _really_ not acting. He talked, moved, laughed like the Tony he knew. He wasn't using one of the numerous personas McGee had seen him create over the years. This was happening for real. Tony was actually discussing business that had nothing to do with NCIS, and he seemed very aware and very in control of things that he was not supposed to even know about.

Before Dunfield could answer, they heard a commotion from somewhere outside the room, someone calling Tony's name and two men's voices trying to calm the first one down. From MTAC, they heard a door being thrown open but they had to wait until a young, lanky man came into the camera's field of vision to understand what was happening. Alceo came running after him, tried to grab his shoulders to control him but the young man shook the hands off of him violently.

"Julian, what's happened to you?" Tony's voice – out of camera- asked.

"What happened to me?" the tall kid repeated and burst out laughing. "So many things, Uncle Tonio! But I heard today was the introductions, so I hurried here!"

There was a slur to his words and he stumbled back before recovering some balance. The kid was drunk.

"I'm sorry, Don, we wanted to stop him but we didn't want to hurt him," Alceo Peasci said, hands still raised toward 'Julian' for damage control.

"So Uncle, don't take that guy," Julian pointed to Dunfield, "take me. I decided I want to work for you too."

.

.

It was like a blow in the guts. Tonio was _not_ expecting this, not when he was talking about Haynes to that "new guy" that was now witness to this debacle. Julian, sweet, little Julian was reeking of alcohol and cigarettes, his eyes were blood shot and his hair was a greasy mess. This wasn't Ciara's son, this was a stranger. Memories of him falling in the pool of his own brother's blood flashed through Tonio's mind, and he walked to the kid. Julian immediately stepped back, raising an accusatory finger at him.

"No, no, you aren't going to try and hug me too, right? Cause I'm so tired of that!" Julian was shouting, probably not realizing it.

From the corner of his eyes, Antonio saw Elena arrive, take the scene in, and close the door that had been left open. She had just put the bag on the floor by the door but had left too. Tonio knew Elena understood pride: once Julian had all his senses back, he'd be glad no one else had been witness to _this_.

"I'm tired of this _cazzo_! I shut my mouth and they kept asking '_what do you need?' 'do you want something?' _", Julian resumed, mimicking annoying voices, "I WANT MY BROTHER BACK!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, his young voice breaking.

And the utter despair and anger oozing from him shattered something in Tonio's chest.

"I know, Jul-"

"You don't know _**anything!**_ They think I'm a kid, but I'm not anymore! I wouldn't have this if I was."

A gun. Innocent, eager, genuine Julian had just taken a gun out of the back of his waistband. Just like those petty thugs about to rob a grocery shop. Dorian, the new guy, jumped out of his seat and made several steps back.

"Right, Uncle Tonio?" Julian's voice was so soft now, "I know you're not like them. I know you'll help me for real. I want my brother back but I know I can't have him, so I want the people responsible."

Julian sounded like he was talking to himself, nodding as if to put emphasis to what he said.

"Yeah, the men responsible would do fine for now. I want to see them d-"

"Julian!"

Tony interrupted, not with gentleness, not with tact. With authority. His voice seemed to echo in the hallways though he hadn't raised it.

"Where do you think you are? Let go of that thing and watch your tone."

"You're not my—" inebriated Julian began to say.

"You don't barge into my home with a gun and stinking like a homeless drunkard."

Julian didn't say anything, just wiped his nose with his sleeve and handed the gun to Alceo.

"I'm sorry Uncle Tonio, I wasn't smart," he complyed right away, and he looked so tired. "But I'm serious, I want to enter the Famiglia."

"You're already in this family," the new Don Achenza replied more softly, walking by the desk to approach the lost kid.

"You know what I mean," Julian accused, "I mean like my dad is and – no! Not like my dad. Like you, Uncle Tonio, I want to become like you and become strong enough to fucking ki-"

Julian couldn't finish his sentence, Tonio's slap in the face had shocked him into silence, and he was now staring at his "Uncle Tonio" with wide, glossy eyes, his head slightly bobbling.

"I said watch your tone. Now sit."

The teenager obeyed, and Alceo walked to the door and leant against it, casually standing guard. Dorian Aconi didn't dare move. He looked at Alceo to ask what he was supposed to do, but the second in command just shrugged and smiled.

"What do you think you're doing, Julian? Did you leave your mother alone to get yourself drunk? You're better than this!"

"I needed time to think alone, that's all. Now I know what I need to do."

"Yeah, me too. You need to go home and apologize to your mother."

"No. I mean, yes, but that's not what I meant." Julian winced and brought a hand to his head, massaging the back of his neck. "I want to work for you, Don."

Tonio didn't know it would hurt so much. Julian _not_ calling him Uncle Tonio. Calling him _Don_, of all things.

"_Ti meriti di meglio_."

"I'm better than what exactly? You're at the head of this family, so how could I be _better_ than this? You're the best man I know, Uncle Tonio, I want – I _need_ to – to.."

An insane part of Tony's mind wanted to roll on the floor laughing manically. The _best man_? How was it possible that this conversation kept putting Tony in agony when he wasn't even actually being tortured?

"You're wrong. You're better than me." _of course you are_, "You're good but heartbroken and grieving. And drunk. You can't know what you want now. You're just bitter, and I get it, you have the right to be. But you're better than this and I won't let you stoop to that level. Come on, Juli, time to go home."

Julian didn't mistake Tony's words for a request. This was an order, and so he did the only thing anyone could do after an order from Antonio: he obeyed. The new Father walked with a hand on the kid's shoulder to the door, and ordered Alceo to take him to Ciara and keep an eye on him. Alceo nodded, and once again there were only two people in the room.

Tony gave a weary sigh as he bent to pick up the small bag Elena had brought earlier, and walked back to his desk. Dorian Aconi hesitated a second but finally found his previous seat.

There was a long, thoughtful, silence before Tonio turned to address the man opposite him.

"I do apologize for this … setback, but I have to admit it has been a long, long week, and now I am starting to get tired of this situation. I had intended to do things right, but I will just cut the crap and save myself some time. Please, try to keep your answers short and straightforward enough too, agreed?"

"Sure," Dorian said, surprised.

Despite what he said, Tony took the time to open the black bag on the desk and took out a face towel and a bottle of water. He soaked the towel in water, not raising his head to watch Dorian's reaction to such a strange process, and when the towel was dripping, he threw it at Dorian, making him wet as drops of water exploded in his face though he caught it.

"Please, do put the towel on your hair and scrub properly."

"Is this a joke?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, as I told you, I'm getting tired."

Dorian shrugged and complied, drops of water ran on his face and neck, but he kept rubbing until Tonio told him he could stop.

"Very good, I can see you've been thorough enough. I'm sorry I had you get all wet, but I had to make sure you weren't CIA. I always hated how they think they're so smart, placing bugs in your hair because nobody ever looks there."

"What – CIA? What are you talking about?"

"I said we should cut the crap. So let's start at the beginning. Who are you?"

Tonio smiled internally, the guy was good, he really was. Tony could see him try to judge if it was still worth a shot to pretend he didn't understand. Apparently "Dorian" thought it was, though Tony'd had his first doubts the minute he saw the man sitting in the waiting room earlier. He would have congratulated his performance if he wasn't so _pissed_ that that _stranger_, that _poser_ had witnessed Julian's breakdown. God knew how many people had been privy to the show of the kid's despair. The more Anthony thought about it, the angrier he got. He brushed away whatever lies poser Dorian tried to tell.

"Let me try again, and if you really don't get it, I'll just get up and leave and let you deal with the dozens of Fed lovers there are in this home, okay?

You never worked in a factory in your life, look at yourself, I can't believe your boss let you go with that story. You obviously have a lot of experience in undercover ops and you probably really went to Italy at some point, so of course they thought you were the man for the situation," Tony laughed humourlessly, "but they were wrong. You walk wrong, you hold yourself wrong, you _tied your shoes_ wrong.

You can't be NCIS because Gibbs would have _never_ been stupid enough to think you would fool me. You're not CIA either, and that's a relief because that would mean they _really_ can't leave me alone. So you're FBI. That's great, I love you guys. Anyway, I know Fornell's guys so you aren't his, but Fornell being who he is, he has probably warned Gibbs somehow. That means that if you have a cam on you, I'm being broadcast in MTAC right now. Which means that if Director Vance hasn't been smart enough to let the whole MCRT in on the op, McGee, Ziva, and Abby – at least – are watching a hacked feed down at the lab. Ahh, good times. But you have no idea who these people are, do you? Your loss, really."

Tony got up and took the pile of books that were on the corner of the desk by the chair Elena had occupied. He took the time to read every title and find their place in the bookshelves facing him. Behind him, he could feel the other man's stillness and smiled, not looking back.

"You are now wondering where the hell your team is, why aren't they busting the doors down, creating a mess, sending the poor housemaids into fits of apoplexie to come save your ass, right? That's because of the guy I told you about. Agent Gibbs. He's the one that told them to hold. That's because he knows I wouldn't put a bullet in your mouth the second I made you. It's also because you can't possibly have a proper warrant and there's a buttload of people downstairs, half of which are lawyers, and whatever props your people have, they would only face a wall protecting this position. This also means that if someone here wanted to kill you, you'd be dead before your friends were even halfway. To the rescue. I really can't believe how stupid the FBI is sometimes. Are you suicidal or something?"

Tony talked casually and when he finished replacing every book, he turned back to glance at the agent opposite him and sit back on his chair.

"You did it too," the agent said, shrugging.

Tony would really applaud the calm of the man if he didn't feel the heat, the burning sensation in his gut, in his chest. The one that could make his blood shake. He thought of Julian's words, of his blood shot eyes. Of the gun he'd yielded. _"My rage, my fury-" _

Tony chuckled again and brushed the air with a wave of his hand.

"Yes well, that alone should have warned you to not try to deceive _me_. You don't bullshit the bullshitter. And now, you're in quite a situation. I am pretty sure my friend Elena, who you met earlier, made you too. She's quite perceptive, and really, who could miss the thumb callus on your right hand? You should learn how to hold your clarinet properly. Or is it the oboe? With hands like yours you really shouldn't have lied about what instrument you played. Man, they're gonna get a kick out of this one at the FBI. Made because he played the clarinet. I myself can't choose which is the saddest: that you were made, or that you. Play. the _clarinet!_

"Anyway, as I was saying, she probably spotted your lie too, and she could very well have told some friends of ours. And man, you do not want to know how they feel about undercover feds. Well, except the ones that turn out like me naturally.

"Oh, in case you are wondering, no, this does not count as a threat, I am really just stating facts."

After that, Tony extended his hand over the desk. Agent Dunfield didn't try to play it dumb nor did he pretend he wasn't bugged. He just took the mic and camera out of the hidden place and gave them to the new Father's waiting hand.

"You think you're so great. Better than I am because you caught me," the FBI agent said as he refastened the top buttons of his shirt, still calmly enough to show his experience, "but that means nothing if you can't stay on the right side. You fell in their category, the one we try to put away, and you became the best of _them_. This means you're the worst kind to us."

Tonio didn't look up at the Agent opposite him, seemingly fascinated by the truly advanced technology he held in his palm. He toyed with the camera, so small he had it between two fingers as he looked at it closely before changing the angle, aware he was probably still being watched. He smiled at the object, or maybe it was at the man that had just accused him, and passed a hand through his hand in his usual vain way, as if he was trying to give his best profile to those to whom he was broadcast.

"I think you miss the point you have to remember, Agents," Tonio said, making it a plural voluntarily. " As you just said it, in both cases, I am the best."

And he crushed the material in his hand before he let it fall on the floor and stomped on it for good measure.

"_May this strife of men and gods be done with,_" he declared, quoting once more the Iliad he hated. He leant back in his chair, his eyes intense and yet looking almost coldly calculating, and smiled a crooked half smirk. He looked like he had just declared war.

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If you wonder about that last quote: Achilles blamed himself for the death of Patroclus, his friend/cousin because he had decided not to fight in the war, but Patroclus took Achilles' armour and went anyway. After his death, Achilles decides to join the war to exact revenge and end it once and for all. _"I sat by the ships, a useless burden, though there are better in Assembly – so may this strife of men and gods be done with._"

.

**Do let me know what you thought, please.**

I wouldn't go so far as to beg, but your reviews do give me enough joy so as to consider it. :p


	20. Chapter 20 - And Tony opened his eyes

Wow, never had such lovely/intense/thorough reviews, I feel so **grateful** right now, you have no idea.

I've been living with this story & with this Tony in my head for months now, I would have been so disappointed to end up being the only one touched by them. But apparently, I'm not. We're living this together (at different levels, of course), and seriously, how awesome is this?

I've been kind of sick, and I'm still supposed to be resting, so I'm not going to babble as much as usual (whose sigh of relief was that?) : here come the answers to _some_ of the questions you were asking me or yourself.

I've taken great pleasure and even solace in writing this chapter, so I hope you'll like it.

Again, _merci_ to my beta **Deborah**, for without her this story would be so much harder to read.

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Tonio manoeuvred them in the midst of people wishing to congratulate or show him their respects. He had a hand on Agent Dunham's shoulder, as if protective of the man, and when people called him with large smiles and took his hands in theirs, he smiled back and introduced them to "a new guy that showed promise", Doriano Aconi. A few of the people they met even went so far as to shake Dorian-the-poser's hand and assure him he was being taken under the wing of a _great man_.

As they walked out of the house and other lower ranked soldiers nodded their respects, Tony's grip tightened on the FBI Agent's shoulder. They had to play it right if they didn't want to be stopped and interrogated. Once again, Agent Dunham (who had finally given his real name) could have impressed Tonio with his calm. He sensed Tonio's mood and followed his lead easily in their little act. The newly named Don Achenza smirked. It was a good thing Dunham was that skilled at acting, for people could only grow suspicious at witnessing the Padrino take off with a new recruit for no apparent reason, and so the Agent's life was very dependent on his performance. Of course, Tony knew people would also ask him questions as soon as he was back: he hadn't forgotten that a large contingent of the Famiglia didn't know him enough to really trust him. His history with the Feds was no secret, so people still threw him weird looks when he walked in and out of the house sometimes. But that wouldn't last. He chuckled inwardly. No, it wouldn't.

.

A large pale green van arrived when they were far enough from the house and had turned a few corners. Tony didn't bother reading the flashy words written on it, knowing it was just a cover, and when the back door was thrown open, he smiled at a team of edgy men in full gear. Tonio's amusement couldn't be missed though he contained his laugh. Finally releasing the other agent's neck, he saw Dunham jump in while a large man with the unmistakable leader air was staring at him hard. Strangely enough, the unknown agent wasn't looking at Tonio with spite. He was trying to keep his face neutral but his eyes seemed thoughtful.

Oh, and the three other agents were pointing their guns at him.

Tonio barely glanced at the men wielding arms, knowing he had spotted their boss and they wouldn't act without his consent. He smiled his crooked, cheeky smile, and raised his shoulders.

The steady, gauging demeanour of the agent in charge recommended him to Tony for some strange reason, and he finally schooled his almost-mocking grin into one more appropriate for someone being aimed at.

"Hello gentlemen, I see you've come prepared," he finally said, not alarmed in the slightest. He knew they couldn't just grab him and drive off. They were the FBI, not the secret services. The latter would have been way cooler, Tony thought idly. Huh, it was strange how such a detached thought still brought fleeting images of his long lost partner, Kate, to his mind. He knew these kind of mental connections would never go away. The FBI guys were looking at him unblinkingly, and he realized they wouldn't break the silence so easily despite his charming attempt at greetings. He smiled again, quite content.

"Did Gibbs tell you that this op was a bad idea?" Tonio went on.

"He did," the agent in charge said with his uncanny calm.

Tonio snorted.

"You should listen to him next time. His guts have lot more experience than you'd think."

With that he turned on his heels. The door slammed behind him, the car pulled away.

_You're going to destroy everything_, Kate's voice said in his mind. Tony smiled humourlessly. It had been a while since his conscience had last taken Agent Todd's voice. This time she wasn't sarcastic or accusing though, she sounded wistful and understanding. _I know, Katie_, he answered her silently.

Tonio thought of Gibbs, in front of the huge MTAC screen, probably being transmitted the last exchange with the FBI. Probably about to re-watch how his SFA had been made Don. His chest growled.

_Never say sorry_, Antonio reminded himself, _it's a sign of weakness._ And he entered the home he now controlled.

.

.

Tonio was nearly at the interior doors when a furious Alfonso Mattera jumped him from inside, appearing out of the blue, his hands grabbing Tonio's shirt with violence as he yelled profanities. It all happened very quick. Alfonso's sole physical training had been the street, as a thug, but Tonio's was different. The second Mattera's hands caught his clothes, Antonio's elbows hit his attacker strategically to make him release his grip, and soon Don Achenza had a hand around Alfonso's neck and was holding him in a way that gave him the possibility to break his right arm with the slightest movement. Alfonso's breathing was ragged and he tried to get away, but Tonio was furious at the attack and he only tightened his grasp, making the other man yelp.

"Look!" Tonio ordered in a booming voice, moving Mattera's body like a puppet to make him raise his head and see around him. A dozen of previously scattered men had pulled their guns and were aiming at him.

"What do you _think_ you're doing here, _stronzo_?"

"You liar! You cheating bastard, you destroyed us!" Alfonso said, not caring about the armed men around.

Tonio had the sense to push away some of his fury (mostly driven by adrenalin) as he glanced at the exterior doors and was glad they were closed and the onlookers (FBI agents) couldn't witness what was happening from the street.

With a light push, the new Father sent the other man to the ground. Mattera rose without missing a beat, though massaging his arm. There was dangerous, violent resentment oozing from him. Already, Alceo was running out of the house to see what all the commotion was about. Various men and women were trying to peek from inside.

"You played us! Does Achenza know? Does he know you wanted to betray him? To have your own family?" Alfonso Mattera cried, using his whole body to show his anger.

Alceo snorted and shook his head, and Mattera turned to look at him with a crazed look. He was about to say something but Tony intervened before the attention of the man was really on his second.

"My friend is laughing at you because you still believe I considered betraying Father for _you_."

"You gave me your word!"

The accusation could have seemed trivial, but Tony knew how paradoxically, in the world of influential families, honour was primordial.

"As a matter of fact, I didn't. Your vanity blinded you," Tonio said, his calm facade nearly perfect.

At this, Carmine Achenza arrived, stopping just a step behind Tony's side, and smiling, satisfied. Seeing both old and new Fathers like that, pride exuding from the first one and authority from the latter, even Alfonso couldn't hold on to the belief that Tonio had wanted to betray Carmine.

"Do you know who you've crossed? Do you think we'll stay away that easily?"

Tony shrugged and smiled.

"Who are the "_we_" you're talking about, Mr. Mattera? Rumour has it that your brother heard of your plan to backstab him and threw you out with all the men you had recruited. You have no support for yourself, and he has lost half his men. The Mattera clan's administration is shattered, and all your associates have decided to forswear their relation to you."

"I will -"

"I would advise you not to threaten me or my family in our home and before so many witnesses, for accidents are quick to happen when one finds oneself alone. You should also be aware that any kind of action against any of us would eventually cost you a great deal more than you are ready to offer," Antonio declared, almost patiently, as he put his hands in his pockets after having smoothed his crumpled shirt. Around him, half a dozen guns were still drawn out.

"If you'd like to talk about your future, I'd be more than glad to receive you in the week, but I don't think now is a good time. Oh, and I'd rather you kept your hands to yourself from now on," he added as if it was an afterthought. "My friends," he waved around him, "may not be so controlled next time such a thing occurs."

Alfonso didn't say a word more, seething, he kept his mouth shut as he was dragged outside and thrown out like a nobody. Tony shook his head and turned, signalling that the show was over. Just when he spotted a small and thin man approaching him and Carmine while the rest of the witnesses was redirected inside, someone brushed the length of his arm in a familiar, fluttering way. Elena. He hadn't seen her, but wasn't surprised – he tilted his head toward her, not taking his eyes from the small man drawing closer.

"Very classy. Handled like a true gentleman," she whispered at his ear with quiet laughter in her voice. He sensed she was teasing him and only smiled. She hadn't stopped and was already continuing toward the Mansion.

The small man crossed paths with her, and they nodded to each other. He looked amused, a sparkle playing in his small, black eyes as he chewed on his cigar.

"Anthony, you remember Attilio Orlanducci," Carmine introduced with a smile as the other two shook hands.

"Of course, Don Orlanducci, it's a pleasure to see you here today."

Tony knew that Orlanducci had agreed just two days earlier to sign the contract Carmine and Joseph had made to take over the parts of the Matteras in Orlanducci's business. The Don of the other big famiglia with which the Matteras had been close, Francis Pironi, had agreed much sooner, but Orlanducci was more independent, and had different stakes in his connections with the families of Baltimore since he was more implanted in other cities. The very fact that the man was _in_ Baltimore sent a warning in Tonio's head. Orlanducci wanted to size up the new Don himself, maybe even try to impress him.

"It's your first day as the head of this family, and you've already crushed another one to dust. I don't know if I have to congratulate or fear you, Don Achenza," the small man said pleasantly but with a calculating look that meant he was actually very serious.

Antonio had been warned that this man was too smart to play with. He just smiled and bowed slightly, accepting the greeting as a compliment though it was not really one. Carmine seemed to like it, his eyes shone with approbation.

They entered the house and found a quiet study to talk some more, discussing the new arrangements to be made in order to take in the people who'd been dependant on the Matteras' help. The Achenzas' influence being spread larger in Baltimore than the Orlanduccis', the area they controlled touched the Matteras', and so it was easier for them to extend their protection and rule. For this, Tonio knew he had just made the Achenzas' area the biggest of Baltimore. He smirked to himself as Orlandduci finally left the room and he found himself alone with Carmine.

"What a first day indeed," Carmine Achenza said, his contentment pouring through his every move, word or even look.

He went to the liquor cabinet of the study they were in (the one Tony had used in the past), giving the younger man his back as he continued:

"What a grand future you'll bring this family, Anthony. With Alceo as your capo, Elena for the information and Francesca as your consi-"

"No."

Tonio's voice had fallen on Achenza's like the blade of a guillotine on a throat. Carmine turned around and raised an eyebrow.

"This is my choice to make, and you already know that Francesca is _out_."

"She is the best choice for-"

"I'm the Padrino of this family now. I choose. She's out."

His whole being exuded coldness and authority. Carmine's eyes widened a bit, but then, realizing what had just happened, his eyebrows rose, his eyes widened and … he threw his head back and laughed.

"And so you have what you want," Carmine finally said, not displeased by the epiphany.

"I rarely don't."

.

.

"Is that what you wanted?"

Tonio had to fight the urge to pull his gun when the surprise of Francesca's angry words assaulted him from nowhere. He had been in the room he used at the Achenza mansion, taking his clothes off to prepare for bed, when his door had been thrown open violently and the woman had appeared, already half yelling at him. Controlling himself, he turned around calmly and found the young woman's red, angry eyes trying to burn holes into his soul. He very much wanted to sigh, but didn't.

"We've already talked about that," Antonio said casually as he bent to find a t-shirt and covered his naked chest.

"You never answered my questions. My father always times his entrances to his benefit."

She came in and closed the door behind her before she resumed:

"Is that what you wanted? I begged you not to come back," her voice broke and yet she looked impressive, her eyes, though still puffy, showed anger instead of sadness, her voice conveyed heaviness, intensity and not weakness. "I _knelt_ before you and _begged_, Tonio, for you to stay away and that's what you do? I have the right to know." She stopped as if trying to control her voice, her hand went to her mouth momentarily. "I have the right-" a sob cut through her and she slammed her hand against the nearest wooden table to regain control. "I have the right to know why. You can't let me think you did it for me. Is this what you _wanted_? Did you come back for the thrill? For the power? Did you take me as an excuse when you actually just _wanted_ to become Father?"

"You know your father is sick -"

"Don't you _dare_ pretend you're here because of this. You didn't _know_ he was sick when he went to find you at NCIS. I know you took over because of this, okay, I know. He can't be seen weak if he doesn't want the family to appear weak," Francesca recited with a sneer, resentment obvious.

Tony didn't bother tell her how much more complicated it all was. Carmine's illness had complicated everything, and at the same time, it had made everything easier because there could be only one solution to all their problems: for Tony to take over. Cesca was right, Carmine'd had to step down because he couldn't afford showing a weakness in public. He'd had to step down _so soon_ because it was the perfect timing to destroy the Matteras once and for all. Moreover, Carmine had wanted enough time to advise and show the ropes to his successor while using all of his influence to make the most reluctant agree about Tonio's reign. Successions, in a Famiglia of such importance, were particularly delicate and implied a political intricacy that no one ever suspected.

Carmine had timed his first arrival to the NCIS yard precisely for these considerations, Antonio knew.

"But you have to know that if you hadn't been here, Emilio would have taken over, and I could have left easily because no real family would be tying me to the _Famiglia_. You know that, don't you? So you know you're not here for _me_."

"You would have been the consigliere of your father before he stepped down," Tonio said slowly, softly. "You would have stayed with Emilio, at least in the beginning. Even if you could have left after his, you'd be... stained. And tied to _illegal_ business. You're a lawyer, you know how that could have ended." Tonio's tone was neutral but his eyes never wavered from hers.

"So you're really here for me then. Though I begged you. Though I _resent_ what you do."

"That's not what I said-"

"You're afraid of how being a _consigliere_ could have 'stained me' ? Do you have _any_ idea how much knowing you're here because of me is worse? How do you think you can live a life like this, Tonio? Don't you know that this -" she waved her hands around "- will never make you happy? Ever?"

_Some men are made to be happy. Some are born to be great._ Tonio didn't answer her but he knew the words hung between them, just like Carmine had told them earlier in the study. Carmine Achenza always had the perfect answer to all the imperfect, ugly, heart-breaking questions.

"Please, Tonio," her tone changed suddenly, and she drew closer. "Tell me what it is that keeps you here. Why are you doing this? It can't be just me. Is it Elena? Alceo, Julian?"

She seemed to see something in his expression that answered her, because she went on:

"Julian will leave for college, and the others... They've chosen this life. You can't do anything to help them. You can't try and save them from themselves. I've seen you with your team at NCIS, Tonio. I've seen how they looked at you, how they cared and how you gave it back. And now, what, you chose to abandon them? For us? For people that wouldn't hesitate _killing_ your other friends?"

"Enough."

Francesca opened her mouth to go on, but the look on his face dissuaded her. He took the time to breathe deeply before he drew closer to her, schooling away the scowl her discourse had brought to his face. Forcing the sharpness off his voice despite the cutting feelings she'd called forth in him.

"You made me a promise, Cesca. You promised me that the day I'd be able to free you, you would _smile_ and you would leave. You promised you'd do everything you wanted to do, regardless of your ties to this family."

Francesca's eyes widened, and he could see in her face that she was just understanding. It was all coming together. The first day he'd come back to Baltimore, she had found him in his study and had fallen to her knees to beg him to leave.

"I asked you "_what will you do __**then**__?" _and you never answered," she remembered, her face blanching. "Because you already knew. My God, Tonio, you knew what you'd have to -" she didn't complete her sentence, jumping forward to hug him.

He held on to her just as hard as she did, and they didn't talk for a long moment. _Be happy,_ he chanted, desperately begging in his head as her arms tried to hold every part of him though he was so much bigger. She finally released him, drawing away just enough to see his face.

"How could I be happy knowing that you're condemned to stay here?"

Tonio hadn't realized he'd actually said out loud what he'd repeated in his head. He smiled reassuringly.

"I'm not _condemned_ to do anything, you drama queen. I'm where I want to be, doing what I need to do," he said, bringing back some light in his tone. "But for this to happen, you have to leave."

"Leave?"

"Yes, I'd suggest you start planning that awesome trip around the world you wanted to do right now."

"I wanted to do that when I was 15, and what are you talking about? What are you not telling me?"

"Things are going to get ugly here, Cesca. You can't stay."

"You're not serious. You're expecting me to leave when you've just taken the head of the famiglia, when my father is sick, and when Ciara has just lost a son?"

"You can't have your name connected to the business any more. I can't let the FEDs have anything on you and -"

"You-"

"Francesca, let me finish. _And_ we've just brought down the Matteras, they're angry, and they want revenge. Who do you think is their best choice to try to hurt both your father and me?"

That had Cesca's mouth snap shut in surprise, her eyes wide. Tonio sighed, he hadn't wanted to frighten her.

"We can't protect you in Baltimore, too many people may resent us for what we did to the Matteras, and some of our own men can be turned against us easily with the right amount of money. Plus, other families will maybe try to do something about our new influence. People tend to be violent when they're afraid."

Francesca looked stunned for a moment, and she didn't say anything as she sat heavily on the bed. Tony knew she was smart enough to see the truth in his words and not put up a useless fight, so he didn't add anything, just sat next to her.

"I always wanted to go live in Europe," she said softly after a long while.

"Yeah? Me too. I love Paris but I'm more of a Spanich coast kind of guy," he answered lightly.

She smiled but her frown didn't disappear.

"Won't I ever be able to come home?"

Her voice was small and for a moment Tony remembered the fifteen-year-old girl that asked him if he could just spend the night at the Mansion because she had nightmares. He had later – much much later- realized she was begging him to stay because she was afraid of one of her father's men. _Don't go there_, Tonio warned himself. Now, all these years later, she had the same voice. She was in those classy, working clothes that made her look older and more confident, but her _words_, her _tone_, her _eyes... _she was afraid again.

"I'll take care of everything so that you can," he promised.

"I believe you," she whispered.

He passed a hand behind her shoulders and brought her to him. Against his chest, she didn't add anything.

.

.

Tony was sitting at the diner he favoured in Baltimore, eating his usual with the giant milkshake the girl at the counter now made as soon as she saw him, when it happened. It was just a shape, catching his eyes for a fleeting second, but it was enough to have his chest constrict. _Now what, DiNozzo, you're having visions?_ His heart beat faster in his chest. He got up and tapped the napkin to his mouth before going out. There were four of his men at a booth a few tables away -he had asked to eat alone- but he signalled that they stayed put. Putting his shades on (it was a rare sunny day), he pushed the door of the diner and walked out. Tonio looked left, right, and followed the direction he thought the shape he'd seen had taken.

"I'm here, Tony."

Tonio's heart stopped for several seconds -or at least he felt like it did- and then started beating twice as fast and even harder, making him feel light-headed. Behind the protection of his shades, he closed his eyes, waiting for the man that had talked to walk around him so they could face each other and at the same time, wishing he was indeed just having visions.

"What are you doing here?"

Tonio didn't want to open his eyes. He had heard the other man's steps and he knew that if he did, he'd have to see him. See his eyes, focused and intense, and read them like he knew he would. As he asked the question, he knew the perfect answer would be "_I could ask you the same question."_ But he also knew that Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs never went for the predictable choice.

"Came to see you," Gibbs said instead.

And Tony opened his eyes.

.

.

Gibbs had heard everything. To the last word. "_You should listen to him next time. His guts have lot more experience than you'd think_." In MTAC, everyone else started talking at once, but not him. Because Gibbs had heard it. The tone Tony used to say important things. But what did it mean? Tony knew he was being heard in MTAC, he knew the team leader would hear him. And though the FBI had underestimated his agent, Gibbs knew that nothing Tony did was random. He had said that for a purpose. He had said it _that way_ for a reason. For a second, Gibbs wondered if he was reading too much into this just because he needed to believe there was an explanation to the clusterfuck he'd witnessed. Because if there weren't, Tony was now the head of the worst mafia family of Baltimore.

Fornell was on the phone now, and he waved his hand in the universal sign meaning to shut up. Gibbs knew Tobias enough to understand he was receiving news.

"Stupid coordination," the FBI agent mumbled as he shut his phone. Then, raising his head to the others, "I've just been told that the man responsible for the shooting and for the death of Enzo Anconetti had been found in Baltimore two days ago."

Team Gibbs didn't dare look at each other. They hadn't told anyone about the recording Tony had given Abby. They had heard the interrogation of the man Fornell was talking of. It was the last thing recorded on the tape.

"He's been locked up by the FBI since."

"He's not dead?" McGee asked, relief coloring his words.

"We thought he'd be and my team has been looking for him since we knew it was him -a guy called Masen- but turns out the BPD found him early and delivered him to another team of the Agency. They didn't know we wanted him."

Fornell was obviously not proud of himself. Gibbs snorted.

"Why did they give him to you?" Vance asked.

"Had he been tortured before?" Gibbs said at the same time. He had to ask. He could see Abby flinch and her hand to her mouth, but _he had to ask. _

"Apparently they found him sobbing and whimpering." Gibbs felt a weight fall on his stomach. What have you done, DiNozzo? But then Fornell went on, "But there's no trace of physical violence on him, no one touched a hair on his body."

"Why was he crying?" McGee asked, and he looked fascinated in a 'morbid curiosity' way.

"Don't know", Fornell shrugged, then turning to the director to answer his first question, "but he was found hanging in the air by the chair he was chained to, and he had a post-it note on his forehead. I don't know what was written on it, but I guess it was directing whoever read it to the FBI."

That was from DiNozzo all right. And here it was, the signal Gibbs had been waiting for.

"Whose team got the guy?" he asked, cutting off McGee as he was about to ask another question.

"An agent who had nothing to do with it, he's usually working with the Jeffersonian."

"What's his name?"

"Seeley Booth."

Gibbs heard Abby gasp and it was enough. This was not random. Gibbs wanted to throw his head back and laugh. Tony DiNozzo never did anything randomly.

"Do you know him?" Vance asked his MCRT's leader with a suspicious look.

"Nope," Gibbs said. And he started walking away.

"What are you doing, Agent Gibbs?" the director's voice boomed in room.

Gibbs smiled, apparently truly amused, and answered without turning or slowing.

"Something I should have done way sooner."

.

"You came to see me?" Tony repeated, frowning.

"Don't worry, the team is okay," Gibbs said with a small smile.

Whatever kind of game (or mess) Tony was playing at right now, Gibbs knew the younger man was concerned about his team. He wouldn't ask, but he'd want to know. Tony didn't answer but nodded and stayed silent, waiting for the team leader to explain what he wanted. Gibbs's mood was light though the situation was very serious. He smiled that little twitch of the lips of his, crossed his arms on his chest and leant back on the wall of the little alley they'd found themselves in. He was relaxed. In his head, he realized he should have done this sooner, perhaps before Achenza ever came into their lives.

"I came here to see how you were doing."

"I'm fine, thank you," Tony answered tentatively, his eyebrows still set in a frown.

Gibbs smiled again and he knew Tony was getting more and more confused. He must have thought Gibbs was so out of character.

"Abby's been very worried since you gave her the tapes," Gibbs went on, his eyes gauging every reaction of the man opposite him.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Tony whispered, still tense.

"I know."

"You don't look too worried yourself."

"That's something else I came to tell you," Gibbs said, he pushed himself off the wall and drew closer. He was mere inches away from the younger man. He raised his hand like he always did when he was about to headslap his SFA, but this time he just laid it on his shoulder.

"I trust you, DiNozzo."

.

Well, he hadn't expected that. Tony must have looked dumbly at Gibbs for a few seconds, because Gibbs smiled again -did the older man have something wrong with his lips?- and shrugged.

"I do. I've been having you on my six for years so you should've guessed. But now I'm telling you directly, Tony, so you can't say you didn't understand: I don't trust you with my life just because you're a good agent. You're a good _man_. Whatever you think or do, I know you are. So whatever is happening right now-" he shrugged, "- I trust you."

Tony was staring at his boss as if he'd grown another head. No, even then, he wouldn't have been so surprised. Damn, Leroy Jethro Gibbs was anything but predictable.

Gibbs had talked with his hand on Tony's shoulder, his eyes piercing through him to make sure he got the message. The team leader didn't move for a few seconds, and when there was still no answer, he squeezed and let go.

"See ya', Tony," he finally said, repeating the words the younger man had told him a few days earlier and chuckling to himself because he hadn't understood them right away.

No, Gibbs hadn't remembered that nine years earlier, when he had made a job offer to Detective Tony DiNozzo from the Baltimore PD, the cocky detective had said "I'll think about it. See ya!" and had left him hanging there. Next Monday morning, the young man had been behind his new desk, taking his mighty mouse stapler out of his bag to put it beside the computer screen.

.

.

.

Tony was waiting for Francesca in the car with Elena. He was playing with her fingers, commenting on how long they were just to make her smirk and roll her eyes, and laughing when she did. His phone rang, and when Alceo asked him why they weren't already there, Tony realized they'd been parked outside the supermarket Francesca had wanted to stop at for a while. His mood switched in a fraction of second.

With an almost perfect timing, _just_ when he shut his phone and raised his eyes to the supermarket, two men walket out, scarfs hiding the lower parts of their faces. One of them carried a black bag, the other was just putting his large gun back in his waistband.

Tonio knew Elena was telling him something. As he got out of the car and walked straight to the two men, she said something again. He didn't care. She was maybe telling him to wait, not to go, not to confront them. _He. Didn't. Care_. He never even realized she was actually asking him to calm down, to take it easy on _them_. When the two men spotted him crossing the parking lot, they sped up. One of them, upon realizing Tony had no back up, grew more confident and turned to face him totally. It was the one with the big gun. The other one was already sliding behind the wheel of a blue car he'd reached. The armed one was smug enough to lower the scarf on his face to smile at Tonio. He raised his arm. Had that man pointed this gun to Francesca? And why wasn't she coming out? Tonio nearly snarled. He took out his own gun without missing a beat, not slowing at being aimed at, and his face must have shown how unimpressed he was because the other man faltered. Tonio walked faster.

"Get in here, come on!" the man behind the wheel yelled at his partner.

No. Tonio knew he would lose them before it happened. The man facing him was inches away from the car door. He opened it and they drove off before Tonio was nearly close enough.

And Francesca was still not coming out.

He walked in the store with absolutely no fear for his safety, only a feeling so intense that if things had started exploding around him for no reason, Tonio wouldn't have been surprised.

As he walked in, he took the scene in with his trained eye and counted three people in his field of vision. One man, still scared as hell behind the counter, and a couple on the ground not two feet away. Why were they still on the ground, shielding themselves like a bomb was about to ignite somewhere close?

"Where is she? A girl came in here and never came out, where is she?"

The cashier, who couldn't be older than a teenager had enough sense in him to point to a door at the very end of the large room. Tonio's eyes caught the already forming bruise around his eyes and knew the kid had been badly hit. He didn't spare it another thought, already striding past the shelves and products displays to open the back door. He heard the woman on the floor he had passed whimper and he wondered for a fleeting second if she thought he was with the thugs.

He didn't care for subtlety as he nearly broke the door down. He heard a man swear then:

"I'm fucking coming guys, I said wait 10 minu-"

He never finished his sentence. Anthony's hand went down on him and smashed his mouth, his fingers digging into his cheeks to drag him with a movement and send him tumbling down. He fell on his ass easily, not being able to move his feet because his pants were already down.

In a second, Tonio had seen everything. He had seen Francesca's hands cuffed to a shelf, the top buttons of her shirt torn open, her tailored skirt way too up on her thighs and her face, red and already a bit battered. The man's hand had been on her mouth when he had turned to face the door, expecting one of his long gone partners.

And Tonio knew he was lost.

In his head, there was Tatallia in Carmine's study, forcing himself on fifteen-year-old Francesca. He could feel the blood pump in his vein, giving rhythm to his breathing. _Deafening_ everything else. He felt his insides shattering, his body out of control. His eyes were focused on the bastard on the floor but his ears were ringing and his mind recalled flashes of memories, fading into one another, rendering him only crazier to the man facing him. Here she was, his little Cesca begging him to spend the night at the mansion and him not listening and leaving anyway. And Carmine's voice was saying _You killed for me before_ in an NCIS interrogation room, and Tatallia's bones were cracking under his fist until blood stained his clothes and everything around. Here he was, promising no one would ever touch her again. No one would ever hurt her like that. He had failed.

And then he was back, and he realized it was not Tatallia's bones under his hands. It was that _man's_. The scarf had disappeared, the nose was destroyed, the right brow bloodied. The man on the ground was coughing and he tried to raise his arms but Tonio was pinning him down, not listening to the words flowing from his own mouth.

Then they broke through his daze. The cries to _stop_. Except it wasn't Francesca yelling at Tatallia to let her go, it was Francesca begging him, Tonio, to let go of that man. That's when he regained his senses. They hit him like a bat to the head. He turned to Francesca and realized Elena had already picked the handcuffs tying her and was now holding the younger woman away from the two men to keep her from intervening physically. Elena was looking at him too, but she wasn't trying to stop him. She just watched, and it was her look that made him lower his gaze on his now hurting hands.

God, what had he done?

He looked at the man under him. He was so young. Was he even Enzo's age? He was trying to breathe but Tonio's weight on him didn't help. Anthony rose to his feet and drew away, disgusted. He didn't go to the women, now both silent. He didn't want to frighten Cesca anymore. He couldn't even look her in the eye.

_I came to see_ _you_, Gibbs's voice said. _I trust you, DiNozzo. _And now he had blood on his knuckles. _Tonio_. We make choices – in the hangar, what kind of choices had he made? When the murderer of Enzo was chained to a chair and all he could think about was Enzo's blood. _I trust you, DiNozzo._ - And we never regret. _Don Achenza_. They all kissed his hand and bowed. "_Won't I ever be able to come home?_" His heart was speeding. His whole body palpitated. Something in his chest was being torn apart, and Tony, Tonio, Don Achenza knew it was his whole being. It hurt. He wanted to fall on his knees and hold himself lest he exploded but he couldn't move.

He barely heard Francesca start "Tonio you are-" but he didn't want to listen to her words. You are a monster. You are a shame. You are a traitor. You are weak. You are powerful. An Agent. Father. Gibbs. Francesca. Abby. Julian. You are a murderer. _You're a hero Tony_.

"WHO AM I?" he roared, his body waking up to smash the closest shelf, sending half what it contained onto the ground in a thunderous sound.

Thunder. Yes. There was thunder in his soul.

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**Were you disappointed? **

Oh, have you seen the new features available on the site? We can have** story covers** now! Too bad I'm no good at this stuff, it would have been cool, no?


	21. Chapter 21 - A great man

I'm sorry for the wait, people. I had the final phase of my exams to pass and then, instead of taking some holidays I had a surgery a few days ago.

My thanks to each and every one of the reviewers for making me happy with each comment, and to Debbie, my awesome beta.

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"Take her to Alceo."

Tonio didn't need to ask to know that Elena had called Alceo before she even set foot in the supermarket. By now, the _capo_ was probably arriving. The Don didn't even turn to look at the two women behind him as he ordered them out. He didn't want to see. Francesca followed the older woman without protesting, probably wanting to get the hell away from Tonio the sooner possible.

God, what had he done?

They left and he waited, still facing a naked wall, for the door to close back behind them. For a long moment, there was only the sound of his beating heart racing against his guilt in his chest. When he calmed down a little, he heard the hard breaths of the man still on the floor. Tonio didn't look at the gasping face his fists had broken. He searched the room, avoiding the bloody mess in its center, and exhaled for the first time when he found the man's abandoned gun under an upended box. He took it, cleaned it with the inside of his jacket, and hid it in his waistband just like the thug he felt he was. Then he went out.

.

Outside the storage room, the couple and the cashier had not moved an inch. Not even to call the police. They seemed to shrivel when they spotted him coming. Tonio couldn't help thinking of the hundred times he had _reassured_ victims of robberies and assaults. Now he was the one doing the scaring. How screwed up was that?

He gulped down the bile he felt rising, and crossed the room in a casual stride. Picking up a bag of peanuts on his way, he posted himself in front of the cashier, handing it to him. The kid looked at him dumbly, and Tonio had to look at the cash-register and back to show him he wanted to purchase it. With trembling hands, the young man did his job.

"Who's the owner of the store?" Tonio asked when the younger man was looking at the machine.

"M... M. Edwards?"

Elena slid by Tony's side just in time to hear the exchange.

"M. Roger Edwards?" she asked.

"Yes."

Elena nodded to Tonio and he knew she'd understood what he had wanted to know.

"Look, kid. M Roger Edwards is a friend of mine. Tell him Don Achenza is taking care of everything that's happened today. We will find the two men who got away and give him back the total amount of money stolen from him. How much was that, by the way?"

"Tw—two hundred and fifty-six dollars, sir."

"Okay, let's round it up to three hundreds. Please tell M. Edwards to let me know if anything else is amiss from his store. Is your face okay?"

The teenager was quite short and bulky, and he nodded hesitantly, his look sliding to the two customers who were slowly straightening on the floor, not quite daring to sit yet.

Tonio nodded to the kid and moved away, letting Elena deal with him.

"Please get up, sir, ma'am. I am sorry you had to witness this. Are you hurt? Did they touch you? Took something from you?" Antonio's voice was empathetic as he questioned the frail-looking couple.

They shook their heads, and though the woman apparently wanted to say something with her tentative smile, the man hurried her off. Something in Tony's chest clenched. Hard. They left before Tonio could even tell them about the police.

.

As he walked out of the shop, Tonio spotted Francesca leaning on the hood of his car and Alceo talking on his phone a few feet away, by his own car. He'd have thought Elena would know better. Francesca should already be on her way to the mansion with Alceo. Tonio was about to signal his _capo_ to come when -

"I'm not going with him," Francesca intervened. Her voice was strong. Tonio looked up, surprised to hear her so assertive, and he finally found her eyes. She didn't look away. She didn't look scared. "I want to ride with you, brother."

He nodded, not trusting his voice or his words, took the keys out of his pocket, and gave them to Elena (who had just come). Hesitating a second, he finally chose to go talk to Alceo first and left the two women for a moment. He had to explain what he wanted done regarding the robbery. What damn luck he had. He could sense it was just a case of wrong time wrong place, but the perps had attacked a shop where _Francesca_ was, and that alone was unforgivable. He didn't even want to think of the third guy, probably still on the floor of the storage room. The fact that the owner was this M. Edwards, who -Elena had confirmed- was under the Famiglia's protection, made it easier for him. That way he was at least sure that Edwards wouldn't go to the police, which allowed him to deal with the robbers his way.

Alceo was agreeing it would be preferable to confiscate the surveillance tapes when Tonio found himself looking back at the two women now talking in hushed tones by his car. Alceo, reading his Padrino, put a hand on his shoulder.

"Just go, Don, I'll take care of everything here."

Tonio stared at him for a second, then nodded. Alceo was the _capo_ now, after all, Tonio was not supposed to be handling things like that anymore.

As he approached his car, he saw Elena look up to him and smile a soft smile that told of a million things he couldn't afford to hear. She pushed herself off of the car and walked to him before he could join them. Once at his level, she just took his hand for a second and smiled again, and that gesture, though so simple, left the wild _something_ inside Tonio's chest strangely soothed.

She walked to Alceo, not looking back. Anthony smirked to himself. She had given the keys to Francesca, who was now sliding behind the wheel. He sat on the passenger seat without a word of protest. And she drove away.

.

.

The roar of the car and the vision of the supermarket they were leaving reignited something uneasy inside Tonio. He kept his eyes focused on what was outside the window, not sure he could look at the woman next to him without losing it again. His feelings, for now, were tamed, but they were still confused and stormy. He wished he could just make the world stop so he could think properly, so he could order the jumbled up thoughts battling one another in his head and the contradictory feelings that made his hands tremble. He wished he could make everything disappear so it could be clearer. But he couldn't.

Francesca changed the radio station for the third time, though Antonio just noticed. Was she nervous to be in his company? Her voice hadn't betrayed any fear earlier, but Tonio still didn't dare look at her. He couldn't bear seeing her recoil in disgust or flinch in fear because of him.

He realized where they were heading at the same time he realized she was actually humming. She had found the radio station she'd wanted, and now she was humming. The window on her side was opened, and she had her left hand in her hair, her elbow leaning on the door. The wind was making wisps of her hair go wild, but she only tamed them when they got in her eyes. She wasn't looking at him, but now, he kept his eyes on her.

As soon as a first sunbeam touched her skin, as she drove further away from the tall buildings of the city, a small smile stretched her lips. And Tonio wanted to cry. Or maybe he wanted to laugh. He wasn't sure exactly, but suddenly he understood Holden Caufield. It was the most absurd thought he could have right then, but he couldn't help it. He understood that damn book Abby loved so much, The Catcher In The Rye. He understood how that teenager could feel so miserable all through the book, and then suddenly, when he saw his little sister riding that carousel, feel so damn happy. As he saw Cesca smile at the sun, Tonio understood.

He had wanted to catch her so much. To keep her from entering the real, bad, sad world of the Famiglia. And he had failed every time. And now she was his catcher. She was taking him away from his troubles, driving him in their own happy place where there was only corny radio music, rare sunbeams and her wild locks.

As she started to sing along with the radio, he brought a hand to her face and tucked a stray lock away. She didn't stiffen or stop. She only glanced at him with a confident smile and soothing eyes. As if nothing horrible or traumatizing had happened that day. "_You're a good _man_," _a memory of Gibbs's voice filled a part of his mind. In that car, with that forgiving, lovely woman, he wanted to believe it more than he ever wanted anything in his life.

.

.

"She's leaving in two days. She is going to Washington tomorrow because she wants to say goodbye to some friends of hers that work there."

"Who are you sending with her?"

"The Agnesinis."

"Which ones?"

"The three of them," Tonio said grimly as he laid back on his seat.

Carmine Achenza smirked but didn't comment right away, pouring himself another drink before going back to the couch of the living room.

"How come you're not sending Alceo?"

"He has other things to do. He's dealing with the robbery thing."

"Ah. You're leaving it entirely to him, then? Is it hard for you not to be involved?" Carmine asked with a small smile.

He'd been doing this a lot since Tonio was made Don. Carmine apparently loved to see how the new Father adapted to his position. He was curious about every little detail of Antonio's new state of power. Truth was, it didn't bother Tonio that much. He didn't mind sharing with the older man, mostly because Carmine was always insightful. He always had some advice hidden in random comments.

After a second of reflection, the new Don Achenza answered truthfully.

"Not really. I know Alceo is good at what he does."

Moreover, Tonio didn't care about the robbers per say. He cared about the consequences of their action. He cared about Francesca and what had nearly happened to her. She was okay with how _he_ had reacted. She was okay with the way he had lost his senses. The way he had nearly killed another man. And that meant one thing: she was _not_ okay with what that man did. She was trying to act detached, but Tonio had noticed right away that since she was back home, she had done everything never to be alone. At first she stayed with Tonio in his study while he worked. He even asked her one or two "lawyer-y" questions and they fell in companionable silence when she answered. Then she had lunch alone with Elena, but the latter didn't make any comment to Tony afterwards. When Elena had had to go, Francesca had called Julian. Tonio guessed she didn't really want to go out of the mansion. Maybe she didn't want to see any friend from "outside" either. The famiglia always had a way to make you feel safe.

Tonio wondered if it was just an illusion.

Carmine nodded with a pleased smile.

"Ah, by the way, son, would you do me a favor and give Emilio a real job? He was my _capo_ for a long time before you came back, and we don't want him to go running to our enemies just because he felt slighted by your promotion."

"You always knew he's the kind that would do such a thing, and yet you kept him in your administration for so long," Tonio scowled, his scorn directed at the absent Emilio.

"He was the best I had at the time. Your boys were too young," Carmine added before Tonio could protest.

"Any position I could give him now would be way lower than the one he had before I came back. However I play it, he'll be resentful and a potential danger to me and mine."

"And so, what do you plan on doing with him?"

It was Tonio's turn to just smirk without commenting as he stared some more at the chess game in front of him. That particular game had started three days earlier, and it was not about to end soon. Carmine laughed.

"Oh, Anthony, I'm not sure he deserves such a treatment."

"I didn't say I'd do anything," Tonio shrugged absent-mindedly, but with a smile.

"Yes, well, waiting for him to naturally betray you so you can punish him afterwards is not very nice of you, Don Achenza," Carmine said in a laughing voice.

"You were always the forgiving one, Don Carmine."

At that, Carmine really laughed out loud, and he just waved Tonio goodbye when a maid came to call the Father downstairs. Tonio smiled, amused, and followed the maid out to go greet whoever was asking for him at the door, his mind still going back to Francesca.

He snapped back to present right away when he recognized the man waiting for him just inside the exterior metal doors of the mansion.

Zorzetti was closer, waiting for Tonio, and he jogged to him when he spotted the Father walking out.

"Did you search him?" the Don asked right away, his eyes never wavering from the man down the walk. He had to focus to keep in control.

"Mickey searched him when he arrived."

"Do it again. Yourself. Make sure he has neither guns nor bug."

Febo Zorzetti knew better than to ask question or protest, so he just jogged back to where Ronald P. Haynes was standing.

.

.

It was weird, but Tony half expected the hand Ron Haynes was extending toward him to be covered in blood. He didn't take it anyway, just staring into the eyes of the man responsible for Enzo's death. Tonio kept thinking back to the car ride he'd had with Francesca earlier, hoping the memory of wild locks would block out the one of broken glass and blood. He thought of Julian Anconetti, somewhere inside the mansion with Francesca because she had begged him to come see her before she left. He wondered what would happen if he told Julian that the man who had just entered their property was his brother's murderer. He thought of a drunk, red-eyed kid with a gun in his hand crying for revenge. He thought of all the ways he could dispose of a body without leaving any evidence behind. He thought of all this and more as he smiled a ferocious smile at Ronald fucking Haynes.

"I didn't know he was Lorenzo Say-your-prayer's son."

That was the first thing Haynes said as he let his arm drop lifelessly. Tonio took his time, looking around. Haynes hadn't come alone, but the two men he'd brought had been denied the access to the Mansion and were thus waiting by a dark green car just outside the doors. The sun was coming down and it gave everything a reddish glow that only made Tonio's mind jump back to blood. Blood everywhere. It suited Haynes's complexion well enough.

"He could have been the maid's son, and it would have had the same consequences for you."

"What are they? The consequences?"

Haynes was a pale guy by nature, but that night he looked like a walking-dead. The nervous twitch of his upper lip and the shadows under his eyes only added to the sickly air he wore, and Tony could tell that the man was profusely sweating under his expensive suit, which was probably uncomfortable as hell. There wasn't anything left of the self-confident businessman that had refused to make a deal with Tonio just a few days earlier.

"Your destruction, naturally."

.

"I'm here to make a deal."

Haynes had taken a good minute to come back from the shock of Tonio's calm and serious answer. They were still outside the house, just in the middle of the path leading inside. Tonio felt a cool breeze pass and enjoyed watching the man in front of him shiver. Ronald Haynes was trying to keep calm and straight, but despair was emanating from him in a steady stream that Tonio could practically see.

"I bet you'd like to see my '_diplomacy skills'_ in action, now," Tonio remarked humourlessly.

"I'm serious, I'm here to make a deal. We can-"

"You've been trying to make deals all week long. You've knocked on every door this city has, begging for protection, offering a whole lot of money, and each and every door has been slammed in your face. Do you know why?"

Haynes was getting fidgety, but he didn't answer. His eyes were looking everywhere, snapping from left to right as if he was expecting someone to jump him out of the blue.

"Because of _me._" Tonio resumed, his tone just as calm as before, but with a new found depth that made Haynes's eyes snap back to Father's, and stay there. "Because of who _I_ am, no one in this city will agree to even be _seen_ with you. You can always try to leave, but you are starting to understand how far the Achenza's influence goes. And believe me, you can't even begin to guess about the DiNozzo's. Now, your own men are starting to realize who you pissed, and this time I speak of Lorenzo alone. This means that pretty soon, no one will want to put themselves between Lorenzo and you. And then, you'll be an open target."

"Stop."

Anthony had talked calmly, weighing every word, every pause, so as to drive his message loud and clear in Ron Haynes's head. And he had obviously succeeded, seeing as how the man in front of him had stopped fidgeting for good, and had achieved the kind of stillness that only a man facing a gun at point blank knew.

"Stop. I understand what you say. I know what it will take, I am not stupid. When I tell you I have a deal, I mean I have something that _will_ interest you enough."

Haynes was pretty courageous, Tonio had to admit. He was one of those proud men that wouldn't just fall on their knees to cry but that would try until the very end. Tonio didn't care.

"**You could offer me your soul, M. Ronald T. Haynes, and I wouldn't be interested enough."**

.

That gave Haynes a pause. Indeed, he may have been hiding despair, he still wasn't stupid, and as he saw Antonio DiNozzo's perfectly closed expression, as he saw the straightness of his body but his relaxed shoulders, as he took in the undertone of absolute authority in his words, Ron Haynes knew he had lost.

"What can I do?" Haynes asked, and that alone meant he respected whatever truth Tonio was about to bestow upon him.

"Not much. You have two possibilities, and you will have to make a choice pretty fast, because my men will soon understand who you are, and will not hold them back if they decide to call Lorenzo Anconetti here. Option one: you die. You can do it yourself, have one of your men do it, or wait for mine to arrive. Just know that if it isn't at Lorenzo's hand, he will probably feel unsatisfied, and then hunt for every member of your family still alive."

Haynes just nodded, solemnly, and Tonio's face didn't betray any emotion as he went on in the same confident yet casual tone.

"Option number two: you prostitute your soul to the FBI, beg them for protection. You will probably end up in prison for life but maybe they could help you hide your family. Give them a new identity and send them somewhere very far from Lorenzo and the Achenzas."

"Lorenzo Say-your-prayer will find a way to have me killed from the inside," Haynes said, his tone hollow, his eyes still locked to Tonio's.

"You killed his son."

That meant yes.

.

Antonio passed a hand through his hair and took the time to calm his heart behind the half closed door of the small living room he was about to enter. His meeting with Haynes had put an unexpected strain on him. It had taken a lot to reign in the volcano that had threatened to erupt at the simple sight of the man. Then, when he had actually _heard_ Haynes ask for a deal. When he'd had to _tell_ him what would happen- that he would die, no matter what...

Yes, Tonio needed a minute to compose himself.

On the other side of the door, he could hear the two familiar voices of Cesca and Julian talking quietly. He waited there, trying to draw some equanimity from a casual, intimate, peaceful conversation between two young friends. He was used to doing this. He'd just sit with other people and bask in the casualness of their exchange just to cool or order his thoughts. But he had forgotten Haynes had screwed that too.

"We're leaving in a few weeks," Antonio heard Julian say to Francesca. "Mom wants to stay with my aunt in Nashville first, but she says it will be temporary. I think she wants to go as far away as she can."

Julian's voice had changed somehow. Since that day in Tonio's office, the day he had taken out a gun and claimed he wanted to work for the famiglia, Julian's voice had been raspier than before. It wasn't as broken and coarse as _that_ day, but it sounded like Julian's voice was never going back to the youthful, smooth, eager one he had before. Just one more thing taken away from him.

"Are you okay with that?" Francesca asked. She talked softly, but not as if she was afraid to break him. Tonio guessed it was a nice change for the kid. He didn't move for a second, waiting for Julian to answer before making his presence known.

"I don't care. As long as Lorenzo doesn't come."

'Lorenzo'. Not _dad_ or even _father._ Lorenzo. Tonio held back a sigh. He remembered the discussion he'd had with Ciara Anconetti when she had barged in on him and Alceo talking business just the day before. Tonio had asked Alceo to wait outside, and as soon as the the _capo_ had closed the door after him, Ciara had attacked:

"Do you have anything to do with it? Did you _order_ your- your little soldiers to kill another mother's child?"

"What?" had been Tony's clever answer.

"I heard... I heard what Lorenzo did to that child. He... he took a kid's life and that's why they took our.. our..."

Ciara had started yelling and fierce, but she couldn't even finish her thought, so broken and hurting she was. Tonio had understood her question then, and for a moment, he had wondered what she needed to hear. Would she rather think he was the one behind that order? That Lorenzo only did as he was told? Or would she know he was lying? He had never asked Lorenzo to kill a twenty-something year old boy just to get to his family. He had not even been back in the famiglia when it happened. Lorenzo had killed Haynes's nephew without telling or asking anyone's permission.

"Because let me tell you, Anthony DiNozzo, that I will –- I will- if you did that to a kid, I will-"

"I didn't."

Tonio had walked around the coffee table between them and had grabbed the pointing finger she was stabbing the air with. She was obviously angry but her voice was shaking, and her eyes were so watery she could probably not see him clearly.

"I'm sorry, Ciara, I didn't. And Carmine didn't either."

"O—okay. Because you're a good man, Antonio, and just because you can order around people now doesn't mean you get to change that. Please, don't change that."

She'd seemed unfocused as she talked, then she'd closed her eyes and brought a hand to her head. It wasn't hard to see she wasn't feeling well, and when she swayed and extended a hand to grab something for balance, he took her in his arms, nearly yanking her from her feet.

"I can't- I can't stay with him. He killed a mother's child. I know he did. He killed our Enzo. I know- I know he did."

She'd felt feverish and Tonio had brought her to the couch and had asked her to stay there. He'd had the famiglia's doctor called then. Turned out, she hadn't been eating enough and was making herself sick. Her sister -who had come to Baltimore for moral support- had been called too, and she talked to the doctor for forty-five minutes in Tony's office.

Tonio had never hated Lorenzo more.

.

Anthony knocked on the door once and opened it without waiting for permission. He found Francesca in a large man sweatshirt that reminded him of something and that she hadn't been wearing earlier, and Julian, sitting on the same couch, facing each another. Their bodies were unconsciously bending toward each other too, Tonio noticed, and his chest hurt at the sight. As he walked by them to sit on a comfy chair beside the couch, he wondered if this was the room for the scarred and broken people. It certainly felt right being there. They sat there in silence for a long while, and no one cared that the only sound was made by the defective corner lamp. Tonio breathed deeply and passed a hand on his face, letting his chest empty totally as he closed his eyes for a second. Before he opened them back, he felt a hand taking his. It was cold but soft and small. He leaned his head on the arm of Francesca without opening his eyes.

"Us three," she said suddenly, "it's forever."

For a moment, the silence sounded solemn as both men absorbed the statement and accepted its finality with agreement. Then Julian snorted, and Tonio smirked, opening an eye.

"You're so corny," the teenager whispered, as if he was trying to maintain the mood despite his humour.

Francesca laughed.

Tonio closed back the one eye he'd used to peek at the serious face of his _sorellina._ He basked in the sound of her chuckles and then relaxed as the two younger friends started bickering, still in hushed tones. This semblance of normalcy -which he knew wouldn't last- renewed the strength of his beliefs. He was where he was needed. Where he wanted to be.

.

.

Tonio was eating breakfast in the blue room with Francesca and her father when his phone buzzed. He'd felt uneasy since the moment he woke up, and something told him he was about to know why. Call it a damn gut feeling. He didn't recognize the number calling him so he excused himself and left the table to answer.

"Yes," he said simply.

"_Tony, it's me,_" McGee's voice whispered.

Tony's gut churned and his neck tingled. He hadn't talked to Tim since he'd been made Don, and he was sure McGee knew all about it. He wouldn't be calling if something big hadn't happened.

"What's going on?"

"_Gibbs is missing._"

"_Excuse_ me?"

A maid that was passing by walked faster.

"_We think he was taken yesterday._"

Taken. The word resonated in Tonio's head. His attention was so focused on the voice from the other end of the line that he ignored Joseph when the old man arrived and greeted him.

"You better explain damn fast how, when and _where, _McGee."

"_He stayed after us in the office, when we were back this morning he wasn't. His car is still here, and it hasn't been moved since yesterday. He doesn't answer his phone, he's not home and hasn't spent the night there. And there are signs of struggle in the elevator, and a blood stain that isn't his_."

Of course not. Who would try to kidnap _Leroy Jethro Gibbs_ in an elevator? Idiots.

"You were working on an open-shut case, for God's sake, how could you let this happen?" Tony seethed, his voice low and dangerous, his body bent forward as if it would pass his message faster.

"_How do you kn- never mind. We closed that case yesterday. I don't think it's related. Ziva and I think Gibbs was on a special assignment from Vance, but the director won't give us anything._"

"_Take_ it then."

It was strange how Tony's voice, without rising in octaves, could suddenly seem so much louder, stronger, commanding.

"And do you have _any_ clue where they took him?"

"_Abby's working on the feed from the surveillance cameras, we'll have something soon,_" McGee said, still in hushed tones.

Tonio knew Tim was probably hiding from Vance as he spoke. Damn it. He wanted to yell at McGee. He wanted to ask coldly if that was how he was having his boss's six. He wanted to sneer at him, to ask if hiding to call Tony was how McGee was working on his leadership. He wanted to bring the damn probie down, so angry he was. For God's sake, he was not even in the same city, what was McGee expecting him to do?

As he asked himself the question, Tony sighed. He'd do what he did best. Have the job done.

"Call me when you have anything."

"_Are you not coming back_?"

"No."

Tonio slapped his phone shut and resisted the temptation to throw it against a wall. He'd had that reaction more than enough times with Tim, he realized. Instead, he cracked his neck and passed a hand through his hair. Taking his other phone from his pocket, he looked for the number he needed. He bit back a frustrated sigh as he pressed the call button.

"Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. You'll have a picture in five minutes. Find him."

He shut his phone and clenched his fist around it. He had just done the one thing he had promised himself _never_ to do. Damn McGee. Damn Leroy fucking Gibbs. Yes, he was that angry.

He took his first phone and dialed a number he knew by heart. It rung once. Twice. And then she picked up.

"I'll bring him back to you, Abbs."

.

.

Tonio drove to Washington with Francesca. The three Agnesinis had taken two other cars with a handful of soldiers. Francesca didn't ask anything though she didn't know what was going on. She just kept silent as Tony drove calmly, his eyes focused on the road and on a different problem way beyond. She just read her book, interrupting her reading from times to times to text back one of the friends expecting her in Washington.

They were twenty minutes out of the city when the Father's phone buzzed. He answered it, ignoring Cesca's pout. She hated when people used their phone while driving.

"_Found him_."

The man's voice said in the phone. Tonio didn't need to check the clock to see how little time it had taken. He _knew_ very well how much time it had taken. Yes, he knew how much time Gibbs had been missing.

"Where?"

"_Sending you the address. Several armed men there though. Don't know who they are, but they're guarding the place like it's Gitmo._"

They'll need more to keep Gibbs in.

"Get ready then. I'm bringing a few, but not enough."

"_Finally, some action_," the other man's accented voice said with a satisfied smile in his tone.

Tonio hung up without answering.

.

Tonio had sent the two cars of soldiers ahead to regroup with Joey's men. Joey was a hundred percent Famiglia, and he'd been sent to Washington to keep an eye on their political friends in town. He was the direct superior of every Achenza man there was in town. And there were a lot. Lorenzo Say-your-prayer called them the rats. Not the traitor kind this time, though. They were rats because they were everywhere, in every nook and cranny of the city. And they were invisible. Junkies, garbage men, prostitutes, cops, administration employees... their network was as large as the city. If they weren't all part of the famiglia per say, they worked _for_ or _with_ it.

Tony stopped the car at The Restaurant, and kissed Francesca's cheek as she crossed his path to get behind the wheel and drive to her own meetings. In the restaurant, Joey was waiting with Anton Agnesini, a large hamburger on his plate. It wasn't even 10:30am yet.

As he entered the room, the large owner came running to greet him.

"Don Achenza, I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the party last week," he said, apologizing profusely for five more minutes.

The '_party_' was the day Carmine had passed over the control of the famiglia.

"Joey told me Janice was sick, Mike. I hope she's doing better. There's no hard feeling, my friend," Tonio said with a warm smile he didn't feel like as he presented the older man his hand.

Relieved, Mike, the owner of "_Il ristorante" _took it and kissed its back then brought it to his forehead as he bent in a submissive stance. Tonio wanted to roll his eyes. Joey and Anton seemed terribly amused.

"Good, good. We're leaving now," he added as he took his hand away and signalled his two men to clean up and follow him. "Ah, Mikey, would you close the restaurant tonight? I'll be back with several of my men, I wouldn't want to disturb your other customers with our loud talking and swearing."

"Of course, Don Achenza, I'll have your favorite on the menu," Mike promised quickly. There was something unhealthy in the way that the older, bigger man was so eager to please Tonio. The younger man was in a hurry and not in the mood, but he answered anyway.

Chuckling, Tonio clapped the restaurant's owner shoulder in a friendly gesture.

"Why don't you make us _your _favorite? And come to the house with your lovely wife sometime if you can, Carmine always likes to have dear friends visit, and you never take any time off."

The man bent his head again, taking Tony's hand to bring it back to his face as he assured he would, and _thank you, Don Achenza, you're so good, such a great, __**great**__, man_.

.

As they walked out of the restaurant, Anton and Joey flanking his sides, Tonio took out his sunglasses and put them on his nose. He waited there a second, the two men with him silently waiting the orders. Antonio extended his hand to Anton, receiving the man's car keys, and as he opened the car doors at a distance and started walking toward the parked car, he cocked his head on the side toward where Joey was.

"Joey. If we're too late. Burn the heart out of them."

"Such a g_reat, great man_ indeed, Don," Joey answered happily.

* * *

><p><strong>So? What do you think?<strong>


	22. Chapter 22 - Nowhere else to go

Hello everyone. Please know that I never intended to take this long between updates. Sometimes inspiration comes in waves and sometimes it takes its sweet time.

Something else I'd like you all to know, you people make me _**happy**_.

Finally, to my beta Debbie: I'm so glad I found you to accompany me in this, and I'm forever indebted to your kindness.

.

.

"You can't go in there, Don," a broken accented man said when Tony slammed his door shut to join the men waiting for the orders. There were a lot. Twenty-eight, Joey had said. They all had different weapons, from small guns to giant rifles. It seemed so uncoordinated that Tonio wouldn't have been surprised if a man armed with only a shovel joined them right then. The men seemed pretty calm, even careless, and Tonio looked away as he remembered that Joey's motto was "we all die someday anyway".

Joey himself clapped the man that had warned Tonio away with a huge smile. He was always smiling.

"He's right, Father, you're too precious."

He wasn't mocking Antonio, but he was amused nonetheless. The fact that Tonio knew they were right only served to aggravate him further.

"If one of _your_ men touches him you're all -"

"We won't," the man with the heavy accent cut, and Joey smiled appreciatively at him though he warned him not to interrupt Don Achenza ever again.

Tonio was effectively kept away from the operation, and he didn't even try to protest. He knew he shouldn't. It killed him, but he knew it was best for the remainder of his plan. He had already screwed up big time, but he couldn't – he just _couldn't_...

The impression of disorder was absolutely not accurate. Joey's men had checked for explosive devices before Tonio had even set foot in DC, and now they were preparing for the assault from afar. The big, secured, vans had just parked, and they were already jumping in. They were all in black but no one had bothered hiding his face. They saluted or kissed Don Tonio's hand as they passed him, and he stayed silent, not even wishing them luck.

Then Anton Agnesini brought his car around, and Tonio got in.

They followed the others.

.

They were lucky to be so far from the city. The house Gibbs was held captive in looked like it had been deserted along with the whole neighbourhood. Some instinct wanted to go check the other houses around to make sure there was no one instead of corpses everywhere. He fought the urge. Anton had taken the long path to give some time to Joey's men. When he and the Father arrived, there was already gunshots and muffled cries coming from inside.

"You'd think it's a war or something," Anton said, fascinated.

Tonio looked at him thoughtfully. He had forgotten that Anton had never been even close to such action before. He knew violence, but not at such a scale. The sounds, the broken windows, even the damn flame-thrower that one of their men had brought with him... everything was new to him. For the first time, Tonio wondered if he shouldn't have brought Lorenzo or one of his men with him instead. Then a not-so-gentle part of him thought it was time for Anton to learn how the big boys played. He didn't like that thought.

Nerves were eating his patience away. His hand was itching to go find his guns and just barge in. He didn't have any bullet-proof vest though, and he wasn't _entirely_ stupid, despite what the gruff voice in the back of his mind kept repeating between two mental headslaps. Anton was leaning against the hood of the car, parked away from the house, but Tonio had been asked to stay inside -just in case- and so he didn't notice first when Joey arrived with his happy, careless, smile. Joey hadn't been inside either, but he had been standing guard before the doors, just to be sure no one could escape. Whoever had been in the house before they arrived wouldn't be walking out.

"Found him, Don," he said as he appeared at Tonio's window.

Don Achenza got out of the car smoothly and never even paused as he followed the accented man from before inside the house. Behind him, Anton was dialing the number he'd been told.

Inside, Tonio didn't spare a glance to the corpses on the floor, stepping over them when he had to. His men were talking quietly with the satisfied smiles of people actually relieved to be done with the worst part of a job as they checked for hidden survivors. They waved at him with more enthusiasm than before, but he remained stoic as he passed by them, silent and removed. He was a vision of calmness and coolness as he moved like a feline, untouched by the dust or the blood. His suit immaculate, his hair perfectly brushed, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the gun Joey had just given him. That's how he entered _the_ room.

He was perfectly in control as he screened the bare room in a second and turned to dismiss both his guide and his guard. They closed the door as they left.

And then he ran.

To the middle of the room, where Leroy Jethro Gibbs lay on the ground, still attached to an upended chair. Tony pushed away the memories of a man _he_ had interrogated in the same position. He fell on his knees, forgetting the dust, not caring about his suit, the blood he was staining his hands with, the fear in the pit of his stomach. The mind-numbing fear. He took his knife from his ankle -rule number 9- and detached the hands and legs of the unconscious man. His gestures were gentler as he moved Gibbs's head onto his lap while his right hand was looking for a pulse. Jesus, please, a pulse. Where's the damn pulse?

Here.

There.

There it was.

Tony was so relieved that for a second, he let himself actually _look_ at the blood, at the wounds and the torture traces on Gibbs's body. But his mind made it disappear again when he started losing control.

"Gibbs? Gibbs, it's me. Open your eyes," he urged near the man's ear. He wanted to apply pressure somewhere -_anywhere - _but there was no actual bullet wound or deep cut to restrain. And yet he could feel how feeble the heart he was trying to listen to was. Internal injuries. And blood was pouring from the back of Gibb's head onto Tony's lap.

"Damn it, Gibbs. Open your eyes! Open your eyes for me, boss. You know I don't beg. Not seriously anyway. You know that, boss, right?"

There was a tiny possibility that Tony was losing it. Because Gibbs was actually _not_ answering.

"And you can't die like that, right? You can't die on a damn secret mission, alone while _I'm_ away. You can't die on a mission you took _without_ your team. Come on, boss. Damn it Gibbs, how damn selfish can you be!"

He could hear the sirens coming from far away, so very far, but the pulse was not getting any steadier.

"You can't die before I explain, boss. You can't. It's like in that movie I made you watch last year, remember? Didn't you get why I made you watch it? Carter, remember Carter? He died before he could explain. You said it sucked. Don't die on me, Boss. Not when I was not with you from the start. That's not how it should be happening."

The worst part was that something in Tony still knew he shouldn't be heard talking, and so he wasn't even yelling. He was whispering. Whispering in Gibbs's ear because after all, he was the only one he wanted to talk to. Tony couldn't really feel his boss's pulse, but his own heartbeat was echoing in his ears, sounding like a dark classical concerto he didn't recognize, so maybe it didn't mean anything.

"You don't get it. You can't die now boss. You'll die someday. I'll be there, and I'll be telling you it's okay, you can go because I know how bad you'd feel for leaving us. But that's not now. Damn boss, this makes no sense. You dying like a probie because you took a mission too big for yourself. I thought you'd understood. I th-"

"Look who's talking," Gibbs answered. "Damn, DiNozzo, you never shut up."

"You know you love it," Tony said right back. Then he paused, and took several seconds to make sure Gibbs was actually looking back at him, with his blue, tired eyes and his _I'm-sucking-the-pain-up_ expression.

"I sure do," Gibbs answered, his voice so croaked and low that Tonio nearly missed it. "Water," he asked.

"JOEY, WATER," Tonio yelled, not moving an inch.

The Italian arrived not two minutes later with the water and some cloth pad he had popped from nowhere.

"The guys left, I'm going now. Anton's waiting for you. Ciao, Don."

Joey had barely walked out when Tony felt a weak pressure on his wrist. He looked away from the bottle and compress to find Gibbs's eyes. He looked even more ashen, if that was possible. Gibbs looked at him, then at the door, no doubt thinking of Joey.

"What did you _do_?"

Tony hadn't even thought that Gibbs would assume right away that he'd come to the rescue with the NCIS team.

"What did youdo, Tony?" Gibbs repeated, and for the first time since Tony had known the older man, he read defeat in his eyes. Defeat and sadness.

Tony smiled casually and brought the bottle to Gibbs's lips. The Special Agent tried to resist at first, but he finally let the water flow down his throat, his eyes not budging from Tony's.

"If they killed anyone under your orders," Gibbs started, his voice a little smoother, "you can't come back."

"It's okay, boss," Tony said softly, his soft smile still in place.

"I _know_ you wanted to come back," Gibbs insisted with the little strength he had left in him. "I _know_ you had a plan. But if they killed the Kosovars you-"

"So they were Kosovars, huh? Only you, boss," Tony chuckled, shaking his head softly.

"Don't laugh. Damn it, Tony, you've screwed yourself."

"You're not fit enough to throw a temper, boss. Wait till you have your morning coffee first, okay?"

Tony smiled when the sound of a door being smashed interrupted Gibbs's forming protests. They heard probie's voice ordering Ziva to go left. It sounded like McGee had followed Anton's instruction and didn't bring back-up. The idiot.

"Hey, McGee!" Tony called out as he straightened, getting Gibbs's head out of his lap instead of giving in to the illogical want to bring him closer. The younger man arrived, his gun raised, his brows furrowed in that same serious way he'd taken when he'd first gone on a mission with team Gibbs, so many damn lifetimes back.

"A mafiosi calls you, orders you to a secluded house and asks you not to bring any back up... and you actually obey?"

"I knew he was with you," Probie answered, putting his gun away and running to the man on the ground. "Are you okay, boss?"

"ETA on the ambulance, Probalicious?"

"Ducky's waiting outside," Tim answered absent-mindedly as he bent to check Gibbs's pulse for himself. Tony smiled at the gesture.

"I'll send him in," Tony assured, walking away.

"Tony!" Gibbs called, probably softer than he intended.

DiNozzo looked back, smiled, and shrugged.

"Your ass over mine, boss? Sounds like a fair trade to me."

And he walked out. He couldn't remember doing anything as hard as ignoring a half-unconscious Gibbs order to get his ass back there.

.

"Who did this?" Ziva popped out of nowhere, her gun still drawn. She waved at the two unconscious men still on the ground in the room.

"What? That? Well, you did, of course! And I have to say, I'm impressed. I've heard they're bad-asses from Kosovo. Good job, Agent David."

She looked at him with incomprehension for a moment, but accepted the answer with a nod and a wary smile that didn't fit her character. Tony just bent to kiss her temple and walked out of the abandoned house.  
>He felt something new as he waved Ducky in without approaching him. He knew he couldn't afford to talk to the astute M.E without uncovering half his thoughts, so he avoided doing it. He felt so strange. There was something unsettling bugging him as he entered the car next to Anton and waited there. Agnesini knew better than to go before he was ordered to. So they stayed there, waiting.<p>

And waiting.

Tony sure knew patience was a virtue, but he was practically fighting down his own body not to go check for himself what was going on inside the house. McGee and Palmer finally appeared, carrying Gibbs out of the house on a stretcher. Tony didn't even blink as his eyes were locked on the body disappearing in the ME's truck. Then they found Ducky, who was waiting to have Tony's attention. The old man nodded slightly, silently reassuring. Tony nodded back and Anton started the ignition.

.

It felt strange knowing that he didn't have a choice anymore. Gibbs was right. There was no coming back now. Something was pulling at him from the navel. A weight bringing his thoughts to darker places than he had allowed them access to. That was it. He was finished with NCIS. That's all folks. Close the curtains, take off the wig and wash off the make-up. Everything's over. He knew he had made his choice a long time before, but the _possibility_ of changing that choice had always been there anyway. Whatever he'd done, there had always been two possible exit doors available. Tony felt light-headed for a moment, and he was glad he was sitting.

That's when his phone buzzed.

He answered without thinking. It was Gibbs's ringtone. The one Abby had put in all the team's phones. Somehow, it was engrained in his brain to answer to that sound.

"_You called me boss."_

That caught Tony off guard.

"Huh?"

"_You called me boss, DiNozzo. That means you're still aware that I own your ass. And I got your six. Do what you have to do and come back_."

"You said it yourself, Gibbs, there's a point of no-"

"_I got your six,_" Gibbs repeated in his usual matter-of-fact manner.

He hung up before Tony could answer. Before the new Don Achenza could even say whether he _wanted_ to find a way back or not.

Tonio passed a hand through his hair and tried to relax the muscles he hadn't even noticed were tense. The three notes signaling an incoming text message made him look back down at his phone.

"_Thank you, hero._" Abby wrote.

Tonio felt like destroying something with his bare hands. Or maybe just like falling on his knees and begging for forgiveness. As he put the NCIS phone away where he couldn't even hear it if it rung, he turned to Anton.

"You okay?"

"Of course, Don, why do you ask?"

"Nothing. Did you make sure this couldn't be traced back to us?"

"Joey did as you told him to get the guns, and they got rid of them like you said too. I checked they were all wearing the gloves and protections you asked for myself."

"Everyone's alright?"

"Yeah. Our guys were prepared for a lot more men than they found. And the Russians or whatever were taken by surprise."

Tonio didn't bother correcting Anton, he just nodded, satisfied.

"Where to?" Agnesini finally asked.

.

The Restaurant was even more lively than usual. New lights had been hung and lit and alcohol was flowing, giving the atmosphere a happy, warm feeling that the men laughing, singing, or bickering seemed to enjoy. All the men from that morning were there, along with a few other useful famiglia members in town. As men from his table hailed others at the table across the room loudly, Tonio couldn't help remembering again how bad an idea this was. At least for Agent DiNozzo, because for Don Antonio, this was genius. Every man in the room clapped his back cheerfully and thanked him for the night and the free meal when that very morning, most of them were still wary of him.

Despite the spirit of the evening, Tonio had been careful not to drink too much all night. As he listened, laughed or teased along with the rest, Tony's mind was elsewhere. He had trouble getting over it. Over what he had done. "_You've screwed yourself_." Gibbs had been right. He often was, the boss. As hours passed, Tonio could feel that despite his efforts, the few drinks he'd have were starting to affect him. His thoughts always spun faster when he drank. Paradoxically, sometimes it helped get things done. When everything in his head was flying, dancing, disappearing or even riding one another, he managed to see them in a new light, to get something new from all the mess. Or at least that's how it felt to him. And now, he had to leave.

.

.

He closed his eyes as he pushed open the door of his apartment for the second time that day. He had been there earlier to take a shower and change clothes, but soon, the very smell of the rooms burnt its way down his throat, as if trying to prove him how wrong everything was. So he'd left.

He knew he was far from being drunk, but something heavier than alcohol seemed to be pushing down on his shoulders and chest, making him stumble. His eyes were still closed as he entered the living room. He wished he could _not_ breathe. He didn't want to smell what used to be so easily called _home_. He thought of Gibbs. He thought of that moment after he hung up with McGee. That moment when every part of his being _knew_ what would happen.

His ass or Gibbs's? There was never a choice.

He had no regrets. He'd _had_ to call Joey. He couldn't have done anything else. Yet there was this damn weight, enclosing his chest. It was like a dam had been breeched, somewhere not too far away, and the water was engulfing him from everywhere, violently, fiercely, pressure threatened to make him implode. He was in the water, trying not to be carried away and all he could see was people.

Dozens of them.

Some he knew, some faceless. Gibbs, Cesca, Enzo, Julian. Elena. Elena. _Elena_. And his team. Abby, telling him so many things he couldn't believe about himself. "_Thank you, hero."_ Gibbs, and all the men that had kissed his hand behind Carmine's desk. The hundreds of people counting on the famiglia. On him. Gibbs. Gibbs.

He let himself fall on his couch and leant back, his head going backward and his eyes opening on the ceiling.

He felt no regret. No, actually he felt like the blood pumping in his veins was not his. As if it hurt. But he didn't know how it was possible, or why. He didn't know how to describe or understand this... this feeling. This thing, happening to him all of a sudden. It wasn't despair. It wasn't resignation. Something had snapped inside him, and he didn't know wha-

"You look sad, kid."

Tonio barely had the strength to turn his head. He felt so heavy. Had he been drugged? No, he didn't feel light-headed or dizzy, he couldn't have been drugged. But how could he have missed this? An intruder in his apartment? And he was always so careful, always checking the rooms, always pricking his ears at the smallest crack of a twig. As he breathed deeply in, he realized that even the smell was different from earlier. There was the faint traces of a perfume tainting the air. Then he realized what Jackson Gibbs had just told him. He looked _sad._

.

.

Jack's feeling that something was wrong was confirmed the moment he talked and Tony did _not_ turn completely to face him. The kid barely even looked back to check who it was. Jack had expected a jolt or maybe even a gun drawn in surprise, but not _this_. Last time he'd seen his son's agent, he was bustling with excitement, talking everyone's ears off and smiling so wide his face could've broken. Of course, Jack wasn't stupid, so he had guessed that DiNozzo was overdoing it then. Leroy would have never kept a kid that couldn't be serious when needed anyway, so Jack had understood you just had to dig deeper to find the finely honed agent behind the Cheshire smiles.

To say Jackson Gibbs had been surprised the first time Tony had called him -at his shop!- would be an understatement. The kid had been smart enough to state right away that Leroy was fine, which helped calm down Jack's old ticker. He said he just wanted to hear what was up in Stillwater. In Stillwater, hah! He had spent the whole conversation sneaking Jack information on Leroy even though he hadn't been asked to. Nice kid, that Tony. But then things changed. They started calling _each other_, and talking about more than just Leroy.

To that day, Jack still had no idea how Tony had managed to get the story of his first marriage out of him. It was nothing short of a feat, and when Jack realized he had said so much, he had understood that Tony was no kid. That he shouldn't be underestimated. And last but certainly not least, that he could be trusted.

The Agent never told his own story, or when he did, it was in riddles, but he had a gift to squeeze things out of people and even _make_ them _want_ to tell him everything. Jack wasn't the kind to use big words and concepts, but slowly he started thinking that maybe this was his redemption. His way back into Leroy's life, or even just into caring for someone else. That was the reason he was in Washington. That was why he had lied his way into the apartment through the gullible and nice building caretaker. He had smelled trouble the last few times he'd had Tony on the phone, and he had realized he simply did not want to stay on the sidelines to watch the metaphorical shit hit the fan. That was a first. Leroy wouldn't believe it, that's for sure.

Tony got up and smiled tiredly. It just made him look even sadder. That was not a good look on him, Jack thought. Then he obviously tried to get it together and shook his head as if it could actually shake off the weird funk vibrating from him. His smile grew brighter and his eyes seemed to realize that yes, Jackson Gibbs was really there in his apartment. Jack thought it was a nice effort, but the casualness of it all was still a big bunch of bullshit. Tony took his hand and drew closer in an affectionate handshake and smiled again, this time knowingly.

"I guess you really didn't like that post-surgery talk we had on the phone, huh?"

"Do you even remember it, or were you too drugged up?"

"I remember the gist of it," Tony smiled self-deprecatly, "at least I think I do."

Jack didn't pretend he wasn't scrutinizing the younger man for signs of what was wrong. He could see Tony'd had a few drinks, but not enough to make him drunk. He felt the weariness ooze from him though, and that, he didn't like one bit.

"It's really late, Jack, how come you're not sleeping?"

"I know I don't look like it, but I'm not in my home right now."

"My home is your home, Jack, you know that."

Tony _looked _likehad regained his same ol' enthusiasm but there was something lazy in the way he _sounded_. Like a slur that Jack had never heard there before. Jackson couldn't help but recall the first time Leroy had told him about DiNozzo (because yes, they did talk from time to time). It had been after an undercover op that Tony had aced, and Gibbs Jr. had put it quite simply: "t_he only time you know Tony DiNozzo is bullshitting you, is after he tells you_". Nobody ever knew what was really going on in DiNozzo's head. When Jack had joked, saying it must drive Leroy crazy, his son had answered with a shrug: it got the job done.

And so that night, as the Agent walked in the kitchen and asked if Jack wanted anything, the old man knew he had been right to come. That's right. Jack didn't know a lot about undercover work and federal agents' business, but he knew that his son, Leroy, was good at that (Tony had reminded him so often these past years that he couldn't forget if he tried). And if Leroy said that Tony _normally_ hid his feelings behind a brick wall, then it meant that Jack's old eyes should not be able to see what he was seeing right then. It meant the situation was clearly not normal anymore.

Of course, Tony wasn't actually looking half bad. His steps still had that same casual gracefulness Jack had been bemused to notice the first time they met. He was still straight but smooth, approachable but with a distant regal way to his every move that one could find weird in an agent. He was still exactly the same, to the very hand-in-the-hair gesture he apparently couldn't stop himself from doing every now and then. And yet, something was wrong. And it was not small. Squinting his eyes, Jack tried to spot any clue Tony's body, posture or even clothes could give. The only things he saw were the tight lines of his faces and the somber reflection in his eyes. There had been a slight downturn to his lips but now they were stretched too widely to subsist.

With everything Leroy had told him, with everything Jack himself had understood of the boy, he felt like he was looking at the DiNozzo-equivalent of a man lying on the floor, head in hands, crushed.

Tony came back with a smirk for some odd reason and put two glasses on the large dining table. Opening a bottle of water, he glanced at Jack and smiled.

"I can't believe you're actually here. And looking good, Jack!"

Jack wondered if Tony even _did_ 'crushed'.

"You should get some sleep," the old man finally said. "Whatever it is, it won't look so bad in the morning."

That made Tony snort as he poured a glass of water and offered it to his guest. Or maybe he'd snorted to something in his head. Jack wasn't even sure the kid had heard him.

"Sadness, heh?" Gibbs Sr. heard him murmur in the glass. "Well that's a new one."

.

.

Jack knew he would have never known anyone had ever arrived during the night had his bladder not stirred him from sleep a few minutes earlier. He heard the door just as he was walking out of Tony's private bathroom -the agent had insisted he took the bedroom and was asleep on the couch so fast Jack couldn't really protest.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he heard Tony say softly, a sigh in his voice.

The bedroom door had been left open unwittingly, and Jack drew closer as discreetly as he could. He wasn't the kind to eavesdrop, but he didn't want to interrupt anything too personal. Plus, glancing at the watch on the bed-side table confirmed it was too late for social calls, yet Tony didn't seem to mind. He couldn't help _but_ be curious.

"You didn't drink enough to not make it to your bed," a woman said knowingly. Tony chuckled for some unknown reason. "Who's in it, then?"

"A surprise guest," was the only answer she received.

Jack heard movement, and he kept perfectly still, wondering for a second when he had turned into a fifteen year-old spying on couples.

"Are you okay?"

That woman, whoever she was, sounded like she knew something specific that could make Tony _not_ okay. It was not a randomly worried '_are you alright'_, but not a "_I know perfectly well that you are not"_ either. Jack frowned, intrigued. There was true intimacy in her tone too, something Jack had never heard around casual, cool Tony.

"Apparently, I look sad," the young man said in a matter-of-fact manner.

"And when did you ever looked the way you felt?" the woman asked, as if amused.

"I probably look the way I feel when I'm in bed with you," Tony answered.

And Jack barely stifled a '_For God's sake_!' before he started walking back to the bathroom, grumbling about no warnings for intimate turn of discussions. He heard the woman chuckle and rolled his eyes.

.

.

"I doubt that very much," Elena finally answered, a knowing -if a touch bittersweet- smile tugging at her lips.

She still had a hand on Tony's cheek. He was lying on the couch with her sitting by his hip, and he wanted to take her hand and make her lie with him -_on_ him- but he couldn't. Not with Jackson Gibbs in the next room. Instead, he passed a hand around her hip and kept it there, letting the other one slid behind his head and repositioning himself to have a better view of the woman on his couch. Damn. On his bed sounded better.

"Why's that?" he asked playfully, allowing his fingers to draw mindless circles on her clothes. "Don't I look like a lucky fool to you?"

She laughed quietly but genuinely, and Tony just basked in the carelessness of that single moment. That second, he watched her neck as it went back a little and he watched her smile. He watched her eyes, shining with amusement, and tried to commit every part of it to his memory.

"Only if _I_ look like -"

Elena stopped talking when they heard a faint flush sound and a door open and close with particularly clear snaps.

"Tony?" Jack asked as he peered from his door onto the living-room. He must have found Elena's head looking back at him over the back of the couch. Tony smiled and raised himself on his elbows.

"Hey, Jack. Did we wake you?"

"No, kid. I don't need anyone's help to wake up three times a night, I can assure you."

Tony liked how Jack kept calling him kid even after he himself once admitted he shouldn't.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Jack, this is Elena, an old friend-" Jack snorted "-Elena, this is Jackson Gibbs-"

"An actually _old_ friend," Jack interrupted him then bowed his head in acknowledgement.

The couple on the couch chuckled, and Elena got up to take both Jack's hands, confusing the man in the process, before kissing his cheek.

"That's how my family says hello to a friend," she explained with a gentle look before squeezing his hands once and walking back to the couch.

Tony could have sworn Jack was flushing red, but the only light was the moon, and he didn't say anything as the older man cleared his throat twice before thanking Elena and excusing himself. The last thing they heard before Gibbs Senior closed the door behind him was something about if he was twenty years younger.

"You never greet strangers like that," he finally stated, rearranging himself in the same position as earlier with Elena by his side.

"I rarely greet any stranger as my friends."

"But you did him."

"You introduced him as such," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

He contemplated her answer with something akin to contentment when a funny thought crossed his mind.

"You mean we could have prevented the whole taser-crisis if I had just first said Abby was a friend?"

"Let me rephrase: you introduced him as such and I can see _he_ is absolutely harmless to us."

She said to _us_, Tony realized right away. Not _to me_, to _**us**_**. **The contentment vanished right away as this single word, _us_, brought back everything unsettling about his current life.

Not caring about Jack finding out anymore, he rose enough to sit, passed a hand behind her knees, brought them up and pulled her chest closer to him, effectively making her lie next to him in the comfy couch.

"I'm not spending the night here," she warned.

"Okay."

He felt something inside him wanting to crush her to him. On the couch, they were a mess of entangled limbs, she was in his arms and his head was by her neck. He wanted to pull her even closer. He wanted _her_ perfume to burn his way into him so that he would never forget. A stray lock fell on her eyes, and usually, he would have placed it back with the others under her slide because he knew it bothered her, but this time he didn't move. Actually, he forced himself to stay put because he wanted to _cling_ to her -to _this-_ as long as he possibly could.

And how long was that?

He could feel his pulse accelerating and that tearing and unexplainable feeling in his chest settle back as if it had never gone anywhere.

He wanted to cling to her as if he would never be able to again, as if he knew this _couldn't last_. But then he remembered.

Why wouldn't it last? He had nowhere else to go.

She spent the night just where she was.

.

.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs put his phone on silent mode as he crossed the door into the director's office. A quick glance told him it was his father, Jack, calling him, and he frowned unconsciously. It was 0730, why the hell was his father awake and calling that early? He nearly made a u-turn to call Jack back when Vance said his name and he had to look up to find the man scrutinizing him, toothpick already in place, as if waiting for the show to start.

"You should be in the ICU, Gibbs, not threatening your way into my office."

"They took me out of the ICU yesterday, actually, thanks for asking. I thought I'd hear from you sooner, Leon. Got worried when you kept radio silence."

"I would have come to visit with flowers, but SecNav kept me kind of busy, with that whole secret operation going FUBAR and everything... you know how it is," Vance replied with the same irony in his tone.

"Did you talk to the FBI yet?" Gibbs chose to cut through the shit with no further ado.

"About your little rescue mission? Not yet. SecNav was a good enough excuse to stall for a while, but they'll start sending me carrier pigeons soon if I don't start answering the phone."

"And what are you going to tell them about my _rescue_, Director?"

It sounded more like a challenge than a question. Gibbs stepped forward, and Vance's dancing toothpick stopped for a second before resuming its arabesques even faster. He stayed quiet several seconds, looking thoughtful and sever – they way he always did.

"I suppose you found your way here to _tell_ me what I'm going to say, Special Agent Gibbs?"

"Well no, Leon. I think it's quite clear what you gonna tell them.: you're gonna tell them that _you_ gave my team the authorization to use _whatever_ plan, device, or force they could to save my ass because the mission you sent me on was just that important. You _will _tell them, because if _he_ hadn't done anything I'd be dead, and your secret mission baby would have _really _been shot to hell."

"He didn't do it to save the _mission_."

"No, because you chose not to even acknowledge there _was_ a mission so you could save your ass in case something real bad had already happened to me."

"You _know_ it was need-to-know -"

"Yeah, and _I_ needed my team to know. But you didn't give a goddamn shit, Leon.

"We were looking for you, Gibbs. You know I couldn't let anyone know about the Kosovars without the approval of SecNav, so don't try to guilt trip me into... into what exactly? Protecting an agent gone rogue that used mafia henchmen to kill their way to you without a second thought?" Leon Vance's voice slightly rose, but he kept his perfect composure. "He's gone, Gibbs. He may still want to protect his friends, but they're not his _team_ anymore. And he certainly did not do it by the rules."

"Yeah? Well you'll have to rewrite the rules. Just like you've been doing from the day you gave me this hell of a mission. You wanted to have a big success so you were reckless, and you know what? The mission is dead but those Kosovar terrorists did not get an inch either, and _that's_because of Tony damn DiNozzo. Soyes, you're gonna save his ass from the repercussions because you _owe_ him. We both do. And by that, I mean even more than usual.

And you know what? If you want your big success, just wait around. When Tony is done cleaning out the whole goddamn mafia from Baltimore, he'll let you claim it was your idea if you ask nicely."

Vance was already opening his mouth, but Gibbs's phone was vibrating in his hand for the third time since he came into the office. Plus, he really did not give a damn about what Vance could tell him. If the director didn't want to be brought down the hard way, he'd do what was best. Obey. He left without a look behind him.

.

.

"Got junior on the phone?" Tony asked absent-mindedly as he walked out of the shower with a towel on his head. Jack barely looked up from the phone he was using when his eyes caught the bandages on the kid's back. His face probably betrayed something because Tony stopped mid-stroke and looked down on his own body before understanding and smiling it off, waving his hand to signal it was nothing.

"Happens all the time, 'm used to it, Jack."

"Well that's reassuring," the old man grumbled with a huff. "And yes, I called Leroy. He had the nerve to lecture me about when and where I was allowed to come to town."

"You did call him awfully early, Jack. He was probably worried something had happened to you."

"Yeah? Well he's the one who apparently disappeared and even ended up in the hospital. I still can't believe you only told me yesterday!" Jack said for something like the thirty-second time of the (still young) day.

This was the second morning he woke up at Tony's. He had wanted to make sure the kid was alright before calling his own son to tell him he was in town (he knew Leroy would make him come and stay at his house). Of course, he hadn't had any kind of idea _where_ and _how_ Leroy was these past days, so he didn't think he had any reason to rush.

"Waited till he was out of the ICU so you wouldn't worry _or_ try to hurt the nurses in an effort to get to him," Tony said with no sign of regret in his voice. "Plus, you came to see _me_, so I had the right to monopolize your first day in town," he added with a cheeky, foolish grin.

"Damn kid," Jack said nearly too low to be heard, then: "About that, I thought you were busy as hell, how come you could just stay at home all day long with an old man, huh?"

Jack tried to pass the question as simple curiosity or just an old-man's noisiness, but he was dead serious as he carefully watched Tony slump gracefully on his couch – huh, Jack didn't know people could slump gracefully.

"I told them Jackson Gibbs was in town, and they just gave me a day off," Tony shrugged casually as he switched on the TV and went on rubbing the towel on his head.

"And who's _them_, exactly?" Jack said, screening away the bullshit.

"You know, my fans and groupies," Tony joked easily.

Thoughtful, Jack didn't add anything. He'd been there over 24 hours, and Tony had yet to say one thing remotely serious. He'd known the kid wouldn't answer him straight without a good dose of morphine in his drink or something (apparently, pain killers worked wonders as truth serum), but still, Tony wasn't _really_ trying to hide his mood either. Jack had no doubt the kid could be grieving inside and still look like a kid on christmas morning if he wanted – that much, he had learned from his son during one of Jethro's frustrated rants again his idiot SFA. But the thing was, once again, Jack could see through the bullshit. Which could mean two different things. Either Tony didn't care enough anymore, or he was too tired to try. There could always be a third option: he trusted Jack enough to be totally open about his feelings and apparent fatigue... but yeah, Jack didn't believe so.

So two possibilities, then. Jack cursed silently.

Both possibilities meant the same thing. Tony was breaking.

.

Tony's phone started buzzing on the table, and its owner didn't need to glance at it to know it would be his professional phone. He had asked his men not to disturb him after he'd made sure that Francesca was delaying her flight to Europe. After the big operation he'd handled to get Gibbs, he'd asked her to remove herself to the mansion and not put a toe out for a few days. She'd just said yes, so gently, on the phone, and had asked _him_ to take care of himself in the meantime. He didn't even want his mind to remind him of this conversation. He couldn't afford any more weigh on his chest. He was already barely able to breathe.

"Aren't you gonna answer that, kid?" Jack, by his side, asked Tony when the latter didn't even budge.

"I'm thinking about it," DiNozzo answered truthfully.

He had no idea who was on the other end of that call. It could be anyone, really, and he was wondering who would make it bearable for him to answer. He didn't find any answer, but leaned forward to snatch the phone anyway. He didn't look at the caller id as he flipped it open.

"_Tony, about time you answered, I don't have all day._"

"What's up, Seeley?" Tony's tone was weary.

"_What's up? Seriously? _You_ tell me what's up lately, huh? Did anything interesting happen a few days ago?_" FBI Agent Seeley Booth was being grossly sarcastic, and really, Tony couldn't blame the guy. He would have smiled at the tone, in another life, but this time his face didn't even twitch. What the hell was wrong with him?

"_No answer? Well that's surprising. Look man, I don't know how the hell you made it happen, but your boss is actually covering for you, and it's working. Still, we can't have that kind of thing happen again so -"_

"What do you mean it's working?"

"_Exactly what I said. The bullshit your Director pulled is pretty high level, nearly makes you out as the hero."_

"Director _Vance_? Of NCIS? Are you high?"

It could have sounded like a joke if Tony wasn't so dead serious.

"_I don't know what happened, but for someone who's not supposed to like you, he's pretty good at having your back. Anyway, you're still in a bad position. Half the people that know what's going on want your head. Whatever you're doing, you're doing it much too convincingly well, and this last rescue mission or whatever it was has stretched the ice even thinner. You still have a chance, Mr. Three, but you're gonna have to speed things up._"

Tony didn't comment on the old nickname he won himself after one too many three-point shots in BasketBall, his ears were still ringing with the information. He didn't even care that Booth didn't know the first thing about what he was asking of Tony. Booth didn't understand. Nobody could, Tony knew. After all, he had played it exactly that way from the very beginning.

"How soon?"

"_**Really**__ soon."_

"Got it. Thanks, Seeley."

"_Don't make me regret being your damn informant_."

"As if you could ever be _just_ an informant."

.

Jack tried not to look too engrossed in the one-side of the conversation he could hear. Tony didn't even get up to take the call elsewhere -which was unusual, Jack thought, but didn't complain. As soon as the kid slapped his phone shut, something changed in him. His body seemed to come alive with a new restlessness that made him tap his fingers on his phone first, then his foot on the corner of the table, until he finally just got up and paced. Jack had never seen Tony like that, so he didn't realize it was unusual for him to walk in circles as he seemed lost in thought or preparation.

To the old man, it was just a positive thing for the kid to be up and moving again. He looked livelier that way, which seemed to be more in sync with the usual DiNozzo. Jack smiled, satisfied, and leaned back on the comfortable couch to watch TV and keep quiet. Completely unaware of what that simple phone call had started.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**_So? _**  
>What do you think is Tony's next move?<p>

Disappointed at how he found Gibbs?

Was Jack's arrival a nice surprise?

Tell me everything!

oh, and, on another subject:** how do you find the _very good_ stories** lost in the sea of fanfictions here? I'm totally lost.


	23. Chapter 23 - This is it

Hey everyone!

This story is almost finished, and it's really hard for me to wrap my head around the idea that soon, it'll be over and I'll have nothing to write anymore. I think that's the reason why I found everything I wrote disappointing and kept deleting it. BUT, you guys have been awesome and encouraging, and I owe you big time because well, you made me try again and again until _it_ (whatever the h- _it_ is) came back to me.

To those who told me I could probably change the names of the characters and try to publish this: you know that would be the dream, but we all know it wouldn't work. You guys read and liked this because you already knew and loved the characters, their relationships, their history. Maybe if I tried writing Fifty Shades of Gibbs or something, it would work. Anyone likes that idea? Haha.

Anyway, you made my heart swell just by thinking it might have a shot, so my thanks to all of you who thought it was worth sending me a PM.

Finally, thank you Debby, for your patience, your words of encouragement, and for beta-ing so fast! :)

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Tonio hung up the phone with a small smile, shaking his head. Jackson Gibbs had apparently decided to give him a daily update on how things were going with Leroy's recovery and the team's comings and goings in general. It was only the third day since Jack had packed up his bags to go stay at his son's, but the whole NCIS team had already been at Gibbs's three or four times. Jack, as he told the stories of McGee nearly putting the house on fire when he tried to cook his steak in the fireplace or of Palmer taking the fall for pretty much everything Ducky did wrong was actually being very informative to Tony. It didn't take an MIT graduate to figure out something was going on for the team to be at their boss's place so much. Jack probably didn't know the specifics, but he was giving Tony whatever he could, and that meant a lot to _the kid_.

Tony passed a hand through his hair and shook his head again. Jack was giving him info he didn't ask for. The older man just trusted Tony enough to know that whatever was happening, it was safe to let him know. Maybe it was even saf_er_ to let Tony know about it. Jack hadn't said it in so many words, but he'd been thankful for Tony's rescue of Leroy. Jackson had also had a few choice words for Vance, because whoever had told him about what had happened had made it perfectly clear how unhelpful the director had been. The memory of that particular conversation still brought a smile to Tony's face.

"You called for me, Don Tonio?"

Alceo entered the room with his head half bowed, as he always did when he opened the door to Tonio's study in the mansion.

"Yes, Yes Alce, sit down."

The younger man smiled and nodded before he obeyed, sitting opposite the Father.

"Alce, you know I've been working a lot on the _legitimate_ side of our activities, right?"

Tonio wasn't in the mood for beating around the bush. And time was not something he could afford to lose lately.

"Yes, Don, trying to clean up the uncleanable," Alceo said with a laugh in his voice. He was leaning back comfortably on the chair and popped open the two buttons of his vest to stretch his arm behind his head lazily.

"If the Famiglia was that dirty, I wouldn't be in it," Tonio's small smirk answered to Alceo's chuckle. "Plus, I'm not trying to clean up anything. I'm building something new."

"Yes, I know. My _friends_ working for the Orlanduccis tell me they think you're starting up a whole company or something."

"Well, we always knew the Orlanduccis weren't stupid."

"Wait, you really are?"

"_I _am not doing anything. The Achenzas are," Tonio gave his second a pointed look. "I need clean men to handle this. And by that I mean so squeaky clean that even if an army of lawyers got their hands on our business, they wouldn't find anything on them."

The capo's face grew serious at the words, his right hand going to massage his jaw while the other played absent-mindedly with the leather on the side of the chair.

"And I want _good_ guys too. Guys I can trust to keep out of trouble."

Tonio's smirk had vanished as well, and from the other side of the wooden desk, his chest moved forward, as if to draw closer to Alceo. His eyes were locked on the capo's, trying to drive in the information.

"Damn Alce', I'm half praying you're one of those men," Tonio said, dead serious.

He didn't add anything, the meaning and the weight of his sentence hanging in the air like a question that couldn't afford being answered to. Alceo wasn't stupid. He knew what Tonio was asking him. Squeaky clean meant no '_burning'_ involved.

"Why, Tonio, you're tired of me being your capo already?" Alceo asked with a fake smile.

Tonio knew a deflection when he heard one.

"You should have left when I told you, Alce'," Tonio answered wearily as he leant back, his hand going through his hair on its own will.

Alceo snorted and shook his head.

"It was a long time ago, Don. Another life."

The Father could nearly hear the unspoken answer of his capo, the one Alceo said with his mouth stretched in a bitter smile. _You were an undercover cop, and I had nowhere else to go_.

"I want to put you in there. I really do." Tonio tapped the folder on his desk with two fingers and sighed.  
>Alceo didn't need an explanation. Things were quite simple, actually. A legitimate business meant protection from the police. It meant an out from the <em>activity, <em>but without leaving the Famiglia behind. Tony's hand went back to his hair and Alceo smiled at the frustration his Don, his _brother_, showed. It was nice, really, to know the Don was _still_ trying to shield Alceo away from this.

"You're doing a good thing, Don. Making the Family more legit. You know, that way the families and the kids won't have to do—" he interrupted himself to find the right words. "They'll get to stay _squeaky_ _clean_," Alceo said, composed and smiling that same half-sad smile. "Maybe someday the kids won't have to run from the police when they spot a patrol car," he added softly, and Tonio knew what his friend meant.

They'd entered the Famiglia at around the same time. And when they were still nothing, they'd seen what the other -younger- _nothings_ did to survive in some neighbourhoods.

"I _have_ to keep this out of the Feds' reach, Alceo," Tonio sighed, "I wish I could -"

"What's going on, Don? I'm not worth the trouble. I'm not asking to be in this," his motioned to the file without looking at it. "I know what kind of life I chose for myself. And—" he stopped whatever protests Tonio was about to launch, "-_and_ I certainly don't want to be the weak link. You know, the one that puts everything at risk. I'm not clean. Not even a little."

_I've killed on the job_.

Tonio's head fell.

"Come on now, Tonio," Alceo said, dropping the title and drawing closer, "you look too damn tired to be thinking this much. You've been in here since last night, you have Francesca worried you're going to pass out or something. What's going on? It's not like you _have_ to do everything _right now_. And no army is out to get our data, not even a lawyers one."

Just as he said the words, the shadow of a doubt crossed the brown of his eyes, and he frowned, tilting his head.

"Right, brother?"

.

.

Right, he'd asked? Tony's hands clasped the desk as he closed his eyes again. Maybe Alceo was right. Maybe he was too damn tired to even think straight. His head hurt and without his capo, he wouldn't even have realized that he'd spent the whole _night_ in here. No wonder the lines had begun to dance on the paper at some point._ Right, brother_? Not Don, not Father, not even Tonio. Brother.

"Tonio, are you alri-"

"Whatever happens."

Antonio's voice cut through the worries like an arrow slashing the air. His eyes opened and he looked straight at Alceo. His hand slammed the desk and he stood up, not even blinking as his head swirled and his legs protested rustedly and his capo, his _brother_, frowned, surprised.

"_Whatever_ happens, I want this to be unbreakable," his hand hit the folder. "This is for the _families_, the _lives_ we protect. It has to be bullet-proof. Whatever happens to _me_ or the Famiglia, they won't be left to fend for themselves. Do you understand?"

.

Silence stretched for a long time, and Tonio knew his capo wouldn't break it, so he purposefully pushed the file aside on the desk.

"Now on to more pressing matters," the Don reached for a piece of paper with names scribbled on and pushed it toward his second in command. "I don't care how, but I want you to find everything there is to know on those men."

Alceo screened the list quickly and raised an eyebrow.

"Those are _our_ guys."

Tonio's expression remained stoic, his eyes staring unblinking until Alceo nodded his obedience and put away the note.

"And one other thing. I want to know everything you've done since the day I left nine years ago. This includes who you dealt with, who you killed, under whose orders, who knows about it and so on. Do I need to make a complete list or do you get the gist of it?"

"I get it, Don."

"Good. Then get to it."

Alceo nodded, all traces of playfulness now gone from his face as he got up and walked away. The Father could see his capo was making an effort not to ask questions, and he approved with a nod that went unnoticed.

"Oh, and Alceo?" Tonio waited until his second turned to look at him, hand already on the doorknob, to resume. "Good job on the supermarket robbery."

Alceo accepted the compliment silently and left the room, leaving his _padrino_ alone. Tony didn't move for a few seconds, thinking, before his hand reached for his phone and he dialled the number he needed.

"_Ciao_," Elena said from the other end of the line. "_I just received your note. Is it important? Alceo could-_"

"I just gave the same list to Alceo. He's going to get me the info but not the same kind I'm asking of you."

"_Oh. And what is it you're asking of _me_?_"

"You are going to get their balls in my hands," Tonio answered without the trace of a doubt in his tone.

"_My specialty,_" Elena's low voice approved naturally. "_Wait, you are talking metaphorically, __right?_"

Tonio couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"What were you busy working on?" he finally asked, knowing it was unusual for Elena to try delegating a mission she was given without reason.

"_It's a surprise_."

Something in Tony reminded him that surprises could be dangerous, but he ignored it.

"For me?"

She hummed yes, and he smirked, leaning back.

"_I hope it's lace related. I love lacy stuff_."

His lips stretched on their own when he heard her deep laugh flow through the phone.

.

It was nearly noon when Francesca came into the study with a large red handbag ready to explode under her arm. Tonio looked up, put away his fountain pen and leant back, taking her in and sighing.

"Now?" he asked.

She nodded with a resigned smile, and suddenly everything from the way she held herself to the determination in her eyes reminded him she was not fifteen anymore. She was obviously upset, but she understood why she had to leave. Because of the Matteras. Because of what he'd done to them. Because of _him. _And she was ready to try.

Rising to his feet, Tony walked to her and took the heavy bag from her hands. He couldn't help but pause again, looking at her from up close. _I'm sorry._ He kissed her temple and passed a hand behind her shoulders. They walked out together.

Under the unusually blue sky, Tony and Francesca looked at each other with the shadow of a conversation that should happen hovering over them, but none of them reached up and grabbed it. They smiled and hugged and kissed and asked for letters and laughed at how cliché it sounded, but they never had _the talk_. They had already had too many. She had already begged him to leave the Famiglia. He had already explained he would do whatever he had to do and she shouldn't worry. They wouldn't waste time disagreeing, saying _sorry_ and _it's for the best._ He smiled a last time, she touched his cheek and tilted her head, and he stepped back, letting her other friends take his place.

"Don Tonio, the Mayor is on the phone," Febo Zorzetti, arriving from nowhere, whispered at his ear. Tony let his eyes glide over the few people gathered to say goodbye to Francesca and nodded. He turned around when Cesca was still hugging Ada, one of the maids that had been around all her life.

"Tell her I'm coming," he answered in flawless Italian as he climbed the two small steps toward the house and felt its shadow welcome him back from the sunny exterior. He didn't shudder.

.

.

Tony couldn't help but smile as he hung up the phone. That Mayor wasn't half bad. Don Achenza could have been annoyed she had taken days to answer Alceo's calls, but really, Tony couldn't blame her. The implication of the previous Mayor with the Baltimore mafia, once made public, was what had ruined his career. Then again, the previous Mayor had tried to double-cross _Carmine_ _Achenza_ by fraternizing with other Famiglias. As if that could've worked out.

Though Carmine's name hadn't even come up once in the following scandal (he had just sat back and watched as the Mayor fell from grace), the incumbent Mayor, a Mrs. Baldwin, understandably took her precautions dealing with them. The thing was that the Achenza famiglia -and now Tony- was too influent to ignore or dismiss in the city, be it on the streets or with the officials. Plus, the Mayor couldn't afford staying away from _all_ Baltimore's famiglias. At some point, she would have to choose one of the big three remaining families if she wanted to be fully accepted by the city.

"So, poster boy or dirty secret?" Carmine asked as he entered the room with his usual perfect timing.

"Who went with Cesca?" Tony asked in lieu of answering. He chose to join Carmine and sat in one of the two chairs on the opposite side of his desk.

"One of her friends, you know, the Romeo girl, and a few of Zoretti's men."

Tony snorted mentally. _Zorzetti's men_! Febo, one of the _boys_, was actually in charge. Things really had changed. Febo Zorzetti was not just another lost kid taken in by the Famiglia anymore, just as he himself was no longer just an undercover detective posing as a vulgar Italian thug.

"She tried for the poster boy," Tony answered the first question, choosing not to comment on Cesca's departure.

"She has guts, for someone so young," Carmine remarked.

They had both known Mayor Baldwin wouldn't ignore them long. She just needed some time to decide how she would take on this new association. Carmine had explained she had only two options. Seeing as how what Tonio offered her was a legit business partnership, she could either choose to make the whole deal very public, pose before the photographers together and schedule official lunch meetings with him in hype restaurants, or keep everything hidden from journalists. Tony half believed she would go with the safest choice and keep the thing discreet without being suspicious: she was still new and the previous scandal was still fresh in everyone's memory.

Carmine, on the other hand, had been counting on Tony's pretty face and white smile. A new face for the Famiglia, one younger and more charming. Plus, though Tony's past as a detective could have sparked debates on corruption in the PD, his NCIS background made it a lot easier to trust and like him. He spent nine years being the defender of America's heroes, after all.

"That, she does. She sounded disappointed when I told her I wouldn't be the one meeting her in two days."

"You know you'll have to, at some point. You can't just delegate someone so important to your subordinate from the start. She wouldn't like it," Carmine advised.

The younger man didn't answer anything. He wasn't sure how he'd make it happen, but he knew he didn't want to be involved with her. He wasn't above all suspicion, and he categorically refused to put this project at risk in any kind of way. The man he'd send the Mayor was a good guy who knew how to lead a business and keep out of trouble. Plus, he won bonus point for not being hard on the eyes, which would give Mayor Baldwin the pretty face she wanted.

As he looked up, Tonio found the observing face of the previous Don Achenza. He was relaxed and poised in the chair facing Tony's. They were close, knees nearly touching, but Tony didn't mind. Carmine's presence wasn't oppressive or an infliction. The older man's inquiries on the advancement of Tony's projects weren't proof of his distrust either. He was never intrusive. No, Carmine came as a support. He came as back up. As sounding board and experienced advisor.

It had surprised Tonio, to see Carmine actually taking a step back and passing over the power. He didn't think the man who had been Father for so many years -decades- could just _trust_ him so easily with everything. It meant more than Tony could entirely comprehend. It was more than just trust in himself as a person, it was trust in his skills, in his ability to lead, to analyse people and situations and to make decisions for the good of the Famiglia.

Because yes, Carmine Achenza trusted Anthony DiNozzo with the Famiglia. The most precious, treasured, protected thing in the older man's existence. And he had offered it to Tonio without a second look.

No, Tonio didn't mind their proximity.

It felt easy.

Right.

.

.

The next morning, Tonio woke up with two folders by his side and a note he recognized was from Elena. He could have smiled at her efficiency if he didn't know what it meant for his schedule of the day. He glanced at the folders and tried to put faces to the names written on them before he opened them.

The first man, 'Tommy', had screwed up a few times when he was still young and the Famiglia had covered it up pretty well. As the Father read the unpunished crimes, his trained mind tried to sum what sentence they were worth. It needed to be big. The bigger, the easier it would be for the Father to use it.

The second man, Louie, was half protected by his past as an informant. He had been encouraged to do it by the Achenzas so he could get out of jail time by ratting out some of the _other famillies'_ business. Louie had been responsible for the condemnation of two of the Orlanduccis' enforcers. Tonio smirked. Maybe Louie wouldn't be afraid of the police, but he'd certainly prefer life behind bars to the Orlanduccis finding out.

That was good. If he knew Elena, he would be receiving the rest of the reports he asked for during the day, and they would be just as complete for his purpose. Sighing, he slid off the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. Blackmailing people was so much easier when you had someone like Elena in your team.

.

When a maid opened the door to the blue room and hurried to give Tony a note, he thought it would be from Elena again. Carmine barely glanced up from his breakfast as he talked with Joseph, the consigliere, about nothing in particular. They were scheduled to have an _administration_ meeting at around nine: _Padrino_, _Capo_ and _Consigliere_, with Carmine as a special guest, but when Tonio's face grew serious and unhappy, Joseph didn't wait for Alceo to arrive to ask the questions.

"Is it about your business project, Don Tonio?"

The father looked up and was about to smile it off when he remembered he didn't have to hide his displeasure from these people. Joseph was obviously growing wary of the work lately, he had been looking forward to retiring, even though he hadn't wanted Francesca to be his successor. Tonio was glad the old man didn't mind not being let in on some of his projects, he knew his _consigliere _saw it more as a promise that he'd be freed soon rather than a lack of trust.

"No, Joseph, it is about what we had planned on discussing this morning."

After he had taken the head of the famiglia, he'd realized that Joseph and Carmine had been planning a succession for weeks, probably because of Carmine's health problems. That meant that by the time Antonio actually became the Padrino, they already had a plan of action to secure the loyalty of most of Carmine's previous associates and partners to the new Don. Since then, Tony had been sending notes, men, business propositions and having phone calls with every big player on Carmine's book. Truthfully, Tonio had trusted his predecessor and _consigliere_ entirely on this enterprise, writing the notes they composed and following the logic they had designed. It was more politics than real business, and the two older men knew the players better.

Which led them to that day's meeting. Tonio had talked to the most important people surrounding the _famiglia's_ business, but he hadn't started actually dealing with them yet. Some of them had seemed okay with him taking over, others had stayed a bit more distant, not sure of his competency, and one... one man had been pleasant enough but had dismissed him right away. Leo Turner, also called the mediator.

"Turner will only deal with you," Tony told Carmine as he crumpled the note and threw it on the table in annoyance.

"Why do you want to make your first deal as a Don with _him_, Tonio? You can choose someone else. Anyone with as much influence and who wouldn't be so adamant would do. After a few successful deals, and after Don Carmine has talked to him some more, even Leo Turner will come around," Joseph advised.

Tonio didn't answer, his face set on a thoughtful frown. He hadn't liked Turner's reaction to him. He hadn't liked being dismissed like a child being told to go play with the other kids. Turner had too much influence to just be tossed aside, and Tonio couldn't let him undermine his authority before he even started doing business. Luckily, people had already heard of how he'd dealt with the Matteras, so most of them knew Don Antonio wasn't someone to underestimate. But now he had to confirm his position in the food chain. And taking _the Mediator_ down a peg or two in the process would only be a bonus.

Carmine was looking at Tonio with something akin to amusement in his eyes when he answered his old friend softly.

"I think, Joseph, that Mr. Turner's unsubtle rejection bruised our new _padrino's_ ego."

Tonio rolled his eyes and shook his head, sensing the gentle teasing, but before he could open his mouth to answer, Carmine touched his hand to stop him and resumed.

"But he also has a point. Everyone has a different way of ruling, and it's important to make it clear early. Anthony, by what he did to the Matteras, has proved to be merciless with those who underestimate him," he said, now all amusement gone.

"Which means I cannot accept to be ignored until he just _warms_ to me," Tony completed.

He knew Carmine would understand.

"The deal proposition you drafted for him was good, Joseph. It was better than the one he had with Carmine. Yet he still said no. I will not beg him, and I will not back down and let him have it his way."

"Tonio, I could-"

"No, Don Carmine," Tony interrupted, using the old title to show his respect, "you chose to give _me_ the responsibility of the famiglia. I will not be asking you to come back everytime someone doesn't like me well enough."

This was something Tonio was adamant about. As Carmine watched him, Tonio felt like the older man understood more than just Tony's words. He glanced at Joseph, nodded to the Father, and reached for the bread, putting an end to the discussion.

.

.

It was evidence of his preoccupied mind that Tony didn't notice Carmine Achenza had entered the study before he was sitting on the chair opposite him. He looked up from the file he was reading, and didn't need more than a look at Carmine to understand this would be serious. He knew he had it coming. He hadn't tried to hide his frustration with Leo Turner earlier, and he knew father wouldn't just leave him in that state without doing anything. Tonio smiled. Carmine had waited for Joseph to leave to have that discussion.

Well, that is, if Tonio wanted to have it. Carmine didn't prod, he just sat there, his blue eyes anchoring and soothing in the way they watched him calmly, with no expectations, no judgement. He was there for Tony to talk if he wanted to, but he respected his successor too much to just assume Tonio needed or wanted his help and impose it.

"I'm okay, Father," Tonio said.

Carmine was not technically the head of the Famiglia anymore, but the title was honorific, a sign of respect, and so it stayed.

"I don't doubt that, son."

"There are just a lot of things to do."

"More than you imagined?"

Tonio smirked and leaned back on his chair, playing with his pen as he thought about it.

"No. But I had hoped it would go more smoothly."

"Come, Anthony, there is really not much that could have gone better. Your first days are a ringing success. Friends are calling me everyday to ask where I was hiding the prodigy that replaced me."

Tonio knew Carmine enough to know the older man wouldn't lie or exaggerate just to make a point with him. The new Father cocked his head, accepting the compliment for what it was.

"And I know you trust your men's skills enough to delegate. This will be easier with time and practice."

"Joseph thinks the transition should have been more progressive. That we should have started working together for a few months before you stepped down for real. You chose to do it at once."

Tonio didn't ask the actual question behind his seemingly unrelated statement because he didn't actually need the answer. Carmine smirked and shrugged. Of course, he didn't say anything either. _That_ was exactly it. Carmine didn't _need_ to explain his actions because he knew Tonio actually understood. And he knew this because well... he knew the man. Enough to realize Tonio was the kind to thrive under pressure. The kind that rose above everyone else when he was expected to fail.

"I didn't go anywhere though. I'm still here. You can use me."

Tonio knew what the previous Don meant. He sighed and passed a hand through his hair, choosing not to notice the smile that the gesture's familiarity brought to Carmine's face. The older man was offering to work on the deal with Turner along with Tonio. No doubt Joseph had advised that solution to Carmine too at some point. It was the logical choice, seeing as how Turner wanted to deal directly with Carmine, and Tonio refused to back down.

"I don't like it. This would be compromising. It's too soon to start compromising, people will hear about it."

"It's your choice to make. But compromising is also a proof that you can be reasonable. Or it can mean that you're ready to do whatever it takes not to lose a contract. It can also be a sign of strength because people will know that you still have _me_ by your side." Carmine paused and gave him a pointed look. "There is always two ways of looking at something: the way it is, and the one you can turn it into."

Tony _was_ reasonable. And he did know the value of Carmine Achenza's advice. But this was not just about image. As he looked up slowly to find the eyes of the older man, he knew Carmine would understand what else was holding him back.

"Ah. So it is about _me_," Achenza said, pausing to lean back on his chair too. He scraped his jaw as he looked at Tonio levelly, his expression inscrutable.

Tonio didn't deny it.

"I gave you a lot of responsibilities, Anthony. You accepted them. I am not the Father of this family anymore. I am not more of a priority than the dozens, hundreds, of people you are protecting today."

"He wants you there. I can't accept it."

There was a weight in Tony's voice, in his words, in the way his eyes looked up from under his lashes as he kept his head low. A weight that told it was unacceptable and he wouldn't do it and he was in command. But he knew, as he said it, what would happen.

"You could go knock on Leo Turner's door and ask for his soul if you decided to. There are few things you _can't_ do, Tonio. This is not one of them."

Antonio stared at him for long seconds, his eyes considering. There was such unflinching conviction opposite him that he didn't need more.

"When?"

"Whenever you would like, Don Achenza," Carmine answered, tilting his head in an unprecedented gesture from him. Submission. Respect.

"Then we will meet Leo Turner in two days. If he can't or won't, he'll be cut off for good. You will be by my side but I will talk to him first. He will ask a guarantee from you, probably officially. You will give it to him."

"Yes, Don Achenza," Carmine repeated. The words sounded like those of the many other men coming and going from this study, kissing Tony's hand and obeying his every orders without considering their own safety or wants. But this was not any man. Carmine rose to his feet and walked around the desk. Reaching out a hand, he put it on Tonio's neck and leant forward.

Tony believed something had just exploded somewhere near the core of his being when Carmine Achenza _kissed_ him on the temple, clapped his shoulder, and left with a smile.

Once alone in the room, Tonio took the time to steady his hands before he called Alceo in as he looked for his discarded tie around.

"Field trip," he announced when his second in command entered.

"Should I pack sandwiches?" Alceo asked right away, amused, as he picked up the much wanted tie from a chair and handed it to his friend.

"Not going to be a _nice_ field trip, brother," Tony answered as he passed by the other man on his way out.

"Oh you never let me have any fun!" Peasci whined, following him.

.

.

"What are you doing, dad?"

"Trying to call Tony, but he's not answering."

Jack put the phone back on the table and sat on the couch with a little sigh, his brows furrowed in a frown.

"You call him a lot," Leroy noted in that particular tone of voice that meant it was a statement but he expected an explanation.

"You can just ask the question you know."

But Leroy didn't say anything, just stared into his father's eyes as he passed him a beer and moved to take a seat on the chair opposite him. Jackson Gibbs snorted and shook his head.

"I came here before I knew you were wounded, son. That means I had another reason."

"What's up?"

"Hell if _I_ knew! Come on now, you're the one going around mumbling secrets with your team all day long when you're supposed to be resting, you know what's '_up'_ more than I could imagine."

"What made you come exactly?" the younger man changed his question with a pointed look.

"Not sure myself," Jack said truthfully. "The kid seemed off or something. Got me worried, I guess."

Leroy just stared some more, but this time his father couldn't blame him. He wasn't known to his son for being the worrying, 'let's take a plane to check on someone', kind of man. He hadn't been that way when he had thought Leroy would kick him out at the very sight of him, or when he'd thought he had no right to come barging in on his son just to calm his own nerves anyway. But now it was different.

"Did he say anything special?" Leroy asked after a long moment of silent consideration. If his voice seemed a little more raucous than before, neither of them commented on it.

"Well, he made a pretty impressive speech once when he was stoned out of his mind with meds, but nothing more, really."

"What did he say?"

Jack just looked back at him, unblinkingly, and shrugged.

"Seriously, dad, you're not gonna tell me?"

"Not sure he'd like that," Jackson stood his ground.

Jethro rolled his eyes and looked away. And Jack couldn't help but see a ten year-old Leroy Jethro huffing and stomping his foot petulantly. He had no idea how his team could be so afraid of this man, really.

"Sometimes I wonder which team you're on," Junior grumbled.

"I figured your team would be the kid's," Jackson shrugged again, unapologetic. "Are your guys still here?"

"Yeah. Abby's downstairs and McGee's doing his thing in the kitchen."

"I don't know what those tapes she keeps listening to all day long are, but I don't think it's healthy," Jack said as he took a sip from his beer.

"No, I don't think any of this is healthy," Leroy agreed thoughtfully.

"Still can't tell me anything?"

"I don't know half of it anyway, dad."

"Well that's never good."

"Hey boss," McGee arrived in the room holding his computer in one hand and typing on it with the other. "The FBI is looking into a business transaction that happened a few days ago. Remember the factories Haynes has been buying these past few years, in the south district?"

"Yeah?"

"They were sold ridiculously cheap just after Haynes asked for the FBI's protection from Lorenzo Say-your-prayers."

"To?"

"That's the thing. A company just bought them, but it's really new. They've been given the legal status of a company very recently and buying the factories has been one of their first investments that we know of."

"Why is the FBI looking onto this? Who's behind the company?"

"I'm not sure, just keeping you posted. The guy running it is a certain Milo Reilly, mid-thirties, graduated from college in 2000, he studied international business."

Tim turned his computer around to let Gibbs have a look. The man on the screen had light brown hair and brown eyes, a strong jaw and a straight nose. He looked like one of those men whose pictures were always on new photo frames, perfect features but no charisma.

"Okay," Leroy nodded, "find me everything there is to know on him."

.

"_Ciao, Milo, tutto va bene?_"

Antonio hadn't called Milo all day, he was too busy visiting the few men he'd needed to talk to. With the general background checks Alceo had done on them and the more _special _information Elena had added, they hadn't stood a chance. Alceo was still in the dark as to why Tonio had needed to go pressure random men from his own Famiglia, but he went along and waited outside every time. Tonio hadn't called the concerned men to him, he had gone to each and every one of them separately, finding them at their apartments, houses, gyms or even favourite restaurants. It was lesson 101 he'd learnt years ago. _Enter their personal space, let them know you're in control, even in their turf. Act like you own their lives_.

Carmine had been full of wisdom when he'd first taken him under his wing nearly ten years earlier. Of course, at the time, Carmine really did own the lives of his men. Now Tonio did.

"_Si, Don Tonio, la sindaca mi ha appena chiamato per confermare l'appuntamento di domani,"_ Milo Reilly answered.

Ah, so the mayor had confirmed their meeting for the next day. That was good. Tonio waved at Ada, one of the maids, as he entered the kitchen and went to the fridge naturally, still holding the phone to his ear with one hand.

"The factories?" Tonio asked, looking for something to eat. Ada tried to shoo him away but he winked at her and took the fruit basket he'd picked to the kitchen central table, sitting there as if he belonged. Ada shook her head, resigned, and tried to at least clean the table with a wet cloth she picked up near the sink. Tonio let her do that with an amused smile, and she sent him a reproachful look before she smiled and took the apple from his hand to peel and cut it for him.

Tonio moved the phone away to protest, but Ada just _tsk-tsk_-ed.

"You let me handle this, and just mind your conversation, si?"

She sat next to him, which was already kind of a victory for him, so he let it go and smiled at her as Milo told him that the factories were working at full capacity despite the adjustment in staff.

"Did Arturo bring a lot of people to work?"

Ada's ears perked up at that, and she raised her head to watch Tony. Arturo was Domitilia's son (another maid and dear friend of Ada). Tonio had heard of Arturo's being fired in that very kitchen, not so long ago that Ada would have forgotten. He winked at her again, and she put the knife down to place a hand on his, her grateful eyes conveying her thanks. She understood he was expecting her to eavesdrop so she didn't hide her interest.

"Really, that many people?" Tonio asked on the phone, "and were there enough jobs for them? Well I am certainly glad to hear it. You have the money to give them the trainings they need to start as soon as possible. Yes. Yes you can use them too. Who did you find for the Federal Hill factory? Who? No I don't know him, but I trust you on this."

Tonio stayed in the kitchen and on the phone long after he had eaten his apple. Ada was still coming and going around somewhere, but none of the other women that were usually there dared stay too long, impressed and nervous around the Don.

The Padrino barely seemed to notice, he was focused on Milo's report. He was pleased too, because everything seemed to go rather smoothly. The factories they'd bought from Haynes were still pretty new and functional, so the ones they chose not to sell right away (at a much higher price), were already working efficiently. Milo had also sent the forms and requests to ask for the building permits he needed two days earlier. Tonio could easily provide any kind of permit he needed in his new position, but he wanted everything linked to the new company to be done by the rules. The Mayor could probably speed things up if (when) she was interested enough after the scheduled meeting. The project would probably receive a lot of external help too.

Milo would be introduced as a benefactor, someone who wanted to help the city of Baltimore create new jobs and new economic opportunities. The Mayor couldn't refuse helping him, if only for her public image. Of course, Milo knew what to do and who to obey. Tonio had chosen that man for his business experience but also because he trusted him to not to become hungry for power and money. Even if he was proved wrong and Milo did try to take over the project and forgot about his promises, Tonio had worked with Joseph and Francesca enough to make sure he couldn't go far with it. Milo _couldn't_ become too greedy. Tonio had asked his lawyer-team (he was the only one calling them that) to set up a system of checks and balances that could work autonomously. He didn't have a masters in business, but it looked pretty good to him.

.

It was early evening when he stepped into the Red Room and walked directly to the large library on the back wall. He still had things to do, so he didn't hesitate as he found the author he was looking for and spotted the book he'd been thinking about for days. He didn't open it as he went to his room and threw it carefully on the bed before he went into the bathroom to take a shower. The activity of the day had left him feeling dirty.

By the time he'd finished and come back, the book was on his bedside table. His lips twitched in a smile he did not really feel like and he just ignored the itching feeling in his chest as he found his phone and looked for the name he wanted to call. He forced his eyes away from the book, the Odyssey.

"Hey," he said as a greeting on the phone, "want to play?"

.

.

They had chosen to meet in the morning. Leo Turner had agreed. The large hangar they had chosen was nearly empty except for the three rusty chairs and the two tables that stood in its center.

"Are you sure you want to do this? I don't like this guy. Maybe I could go first, try to start the discussion..?"

Alceo was wary and tense. He didn't approve of this meeting. He hated that he hadn't been allowed to bring more men to have their back, and that both Carmine and Tony wanted to be present. It was unheard of and reckless, he'd said the day before. Carmine had appreciated his worry but had made it clear he was in no position to go against the Don's order. Tonio had been more generous, offering a sympathetic smile to his friend and reassuring him they would be okay.

Joseph, the Consigliere, wasn't there because Turner had made it clear that the more people there would be, the more he'd be suspicious. He would have preferred it if Tony himself could have stayed home. In all the years he'd worked with Achenza, they had only met twice. Turner was the most paranoid SOB there was, he almost never showed his face and didn't usually ask to see his partner's once he had decided he could trust them. Every year, the contract he had with the Achenzas was extended on the same terms as before. Turner wasn't really big on change. He was so careful with everything that everyone used him to know who was trustworthy and who wasn't. Soon, he became the mediator. He was the man you went to when you had a good deal but didn't know who would be interested in it. He knew every actor in the business.

"No, Alceo, there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

Tonio entered the hangar, followed by Carmine and Alceo, and walked to the first table. Alceo put the briefcase he'd brought on it and they waited. Not ten seconds after that, three new faces arrived. Tony's face was a mask of indifference as he registered that _the_ mediator was a scrawny little man whose nervous eyes went from Carmine to Tonio every other second and who walked behind a large bodyguard that dwarfed him in comparison. Alceo snorted, but thankfully not loud enough to be heard from the new-comers. Tonio sent him a glare and turned his attention back on the infamous Leo Turner. He had to play this one exactly right.

.

.

The meeting was _not_ going well. Leo Turner wouldn't even look at Tonio, and when the Don said something, Turner mumbled something to the man by his side -a lawyer type- and the guy repeated it out loud... to the _previous_ Don Achenza. Carmine had sent a soothing look at his successor, but Tony's calm seemed to be slipping away. Alceo was not much better, he took the whole thing as an insult to his friend and to the very name of his Famiglia, and his hand was getting closer to his gun every time Turner turned his head to whisper to his second. Alceo didn't even realize how it went from bad to _shot to hell. _Just that one second he was wondering if that Turner guy had back-up waiting outside, and the next Tonio was growling in that commanding voice of his. The one that made people _look_at him and _listen_ even if they didn't want to.

"You are wasting our time, Mr. Turner," he said, voice low and eyes locked on the small man. For the first time since they got here, the man actually paid attention. "You and your lawyer have read our proposition. It _is_ better than the previous one. Carmine Achenza himself is giving you his _word_, although I believe you do not deserve half the effort. Listen to me very carefully now. As a _last_ effort to renew our partnership, I will ask Mr. Achenza to formally pledge what he has already orally assured you. If you finally decide that you can trust his words enough to put your trust in our family and in _me, _then you will sign the deal, and we will probably never see each other again.

"Carmine," he called, and the older man understood what he wanted because he sat on the cleanest chair that Alceo had found and brought to the table. Taking a fountain pen he wrote a few words, signed the paper, and got up again.

"Now, Mr. Turner, I will let you have a moment to think about it. But you have to understand, I lead the Achenzas now, you are dealing with _me_. So my friends here," -he motioned to Alceo and Carmine- "are going to leave. And I will be back in half and hour to see you sign that paper or leave and break our partnership. There won't be any other possibility. If you do not accept dealing with me and _only_ me, then I would like to respectfully ask you to Go. To. Hell."

On that, he turned on his heels, signalled to Alceo to take the briefcase back with a tilt of his head, and walked away. He only stopped when they arrived at the car, and Carmine placed a hand on his shoulder soothingly. Alceo knew enough to give them some space so he took out the keys and entered the car. He didn't like it, but now that Tonio had warned Turner, he knew he'd be ordered to take Carmine home while the Don finished the deal himself. Alceo swore in his head.

Damn Turner and his damn lawyer. Because of them Tonio felt like he had to prove a point and was now going back there _alone_. The capo _hated_ it even more than before.

He didn't hear what the two men outside the car were saying, but then Don Carmine climbed in the passenger seat and sighed, and Alceo knew the previous Don hadn't been able to prevent Tonio from going through with his plan.

"He's really on his own?" he asked anyway.

"Sometimes I think he's even better when he is."

Alceo started the ignition on that cryptic statement and drove home.

.

Tonio waited until he couldn't see the car anymore and looked at his watch. He had given Turner thirty minutes. He nodded to himself. Nerves that weren't half so wrecked a few minutes earlier made his heart go faster. This was it. He looked back at the hangar, just one amongst dozens of others on the docks, and started to walk away. Half an hour.

Whatever was going to happen now, That. Was. it.

And it was on him. He still had a choice, he knew. He'd said and thought that he really didn't, that he did what _needed_ to be done, and that was all. But now he knew it wasn't true. He could actually choose whatever he _wanted_, and he'd find a way to make it work, even if either way, people were going to get hurt. He could feel the adrenalin pumping through his veins and wanted to laugh at himself. As he kept walking, he wondered what Francesca was doing right at that moment, and shook his head at the randomness. The hectic thoughts cleared away as he went further away, around a corner, then two, then three. Elena. He thought the name and stopped himself from saying the word just to taste the letters on his lips. His heart was beating even faster now, and he wondered if it was normal for it to constrict so much. E-le-na.

He smiled and nodded to himself. Yes, whatever happened, that was it. And it was okay. It would be. He would _make it_.

He stopped in a secluded street and only had to wait a few seconds before he heard the roar of an engine arriving and van pulling up just a few feet away. The back door were thrown open before it was even stopped, and a man jumped out of it, followed by familiar people.

"Hey guys."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

So?  
>Disappointed?<p>

Do tell me what you think.

About Elena, Carmine, Gibbs, Jack... Argh, I'm curious about your reaction to everything!

.


	24. Chapter 24 - It Was Over

To every reviewer, thank you for your support or constructive criticism. The story is almost complete now, and I just feel glad that I will still be able to read your kind words when I feel down, even if I don't actually write anymore. Haha, getting a bit nostalgic already, I guess. Only one chapter to go. Two tops.

As usual, thank you Debbie, you make each chapter so much better as a beta reader.

NB : _arriverci_ = is more of a "until next time" than a real farewell, literally.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

McGee was putting his NCIS cap on when Tony greeted them, and he couldn't help but smile at the casual familiarity that hid in that simple "hey guys".

"What's up?" Tony asked, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a phone.

"Remind me to kick your ass later, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, but it wasn't serious and hard, it was proud and amused.

"Why, don't like what I've been doing lately?" Tony bat back in his usual teasing tone, but Tim could have sworn he saw a muscle twitch in his friend's face, and he wondered how hard everything was for him right now.

Gibbs had probably seen the roughness behind the joke too, because he didn't answer. But Tim couldn't really keep his mouth shut any longer. He needed someone to actually _explain_, with _words._

"So, this was really just a big undercover Op? With NCIS? The FBI? And now that you have evidence, we can take them down?"

Just before Tony could answer, another car arrived. Gibbs's head snapped towards it and he squinted his eyes. Tony smiled when the man he'd only seen once got out. He was taller and larger than Tonio, but his eyes showed respect and McGee wondered if Agent Walls really didn't hold any grudge against Tony. He was the one that screwed Walls's mission up, after all. Agent Walls had been in charge of the FBI undercover operation that had sent Agent Dunfield inside the Achenza's Famiglia. That is, until he had crossed paths with DiNozzo and Tony had spotted him right away.

"Walls, what are you doing here?" McGee asked, not unkind but truly surprised.

"Well, you'll have to ask DiNozzo for that, Agent," then turning to Tony he added, "I've just been told he requested me for today's operation. You didn't know the FBI would be here?"

"I assumed Fornell's team-" McGee began, shrugging.

"Never assume anything," Gibbs interrupted, and Ziva chuckled because Tony had mouthed the words just in sync with their leader, predicting them.

This was so weird, Tim decided. They were all acting as if nothing had changed. As if the past days, weeks, hadn't happened. He couldn't say he didn't like it though. He just knew this couldn't last long. Everything had changed.

"Anyway, I'm here to check on the operation," Agent Walls said with a tone that showed he was used to being in charge of such things.

"Everything is going smoothly. I'll have Turner sign the paper in a few minutes, and I'll leave the hangar just after that. Your guys can arrest them when they follow me out."

"And then?" Gibbs asked, his eyes boring into Tony because they all knew the "then" was the most important part.

"Then we move onto the Achenza Mansion, of course."

"The biggest part of my team is already on stand-by around there," Agent Walls said, nodding in consent.

"I have to go, if I'm late Turner will freak out and leave."

"Need a ride?" Walls asked with a smirk.

"Let's not push our luck. I'll see you in a few," Tony said, and just turned around. Well, McGee didn't exactly have all the information he wanted, but at least this bit was clear: they were bringing Carmine Achenza down.

.

.

When Tony returned, Leo Turner was not standing behind his giant bodyguard anymore. He was sitting behind one of the rusty tables, the document Carmine had signed earlier just in front of him. Tony took the sight in and raised an eyebrow, waiting for the oral confirmation of what he already thought.

"I am accepting the deal," Turner said, and it was the first time that his voice was actually loud enough for Tony to hear. "Carmine Achenza has always been very good in what he does, and I choose to not doubt his faith in you." As he talked, the mediator picked up the same fountain pen Carmine had used earlier and signed the different pieces of paper before him, sealing the deal.

Even though he had made the decision, Turner was nervous, his eyes kept flickering from Tony to his lawyer, and DiNozzo almost pitied the man. He had no idea what he had just done.

This document that he had signed, he had _no_ idea what it was worth now.

This was the first time since Carmine Achenza had taken the lead of the Famiglia, that he had signed his _name_, in front of _witnesses_ to an illegal contract. The _first_ time. And it was all the FBI needed.

How long had they been waiting? How many agents had they sent undercover? Even if they had succeeded. Even if one of Fornell's men had made it to the top with the Achenzas, they wouldn't have found anything on Carmine. The man had always made sure nothing and no one could tie him to anything illegal. He had never signed anything, and when he met with associates, he always carefully avoided saying anything that would hold up in court if recorded. But like he said, now he wasn't the padrino anymore. Now he was just like any other member of the Famiglia, and in his attempt at convincing Tony of his worth as a Father, he had put himself out in the open. Tony had pretended he didn't want to put Carmine in danger, he had pretended he didn't even want to take a risk and use Carmine's name in the transaction with Turner, and it had only made Achenza more insistent.

The previous Father of the famous, influent, grand Famiglia had signed with his real name. Just because he loved Tony DiNozzo.

Turner handed the contract to the Agent. Tony took a look, making sure everything was in order.

"Will that be all?" he asked, keeping the piece of paper in his hand.

Turner nodded. Tony turned on his heels and left.

He didn't stop walking until Gibbs's van stopped before him. He could hear voices shooting from way behind him, where he had left the hangar, and he knew Leo Turner was being arrested as he climbed into the van with McGee and his boss. Gibbs extended his gloved hand and Tony just stared at it for the longest time. The older man's eyes were locked on him and never wavered, until the moment Tony finally gave the contract away.

It felt like there was a sudden change of pressure in the air and for a second he couldn't breathe anymore. His eyes widened in panic at the feeling and his hand shot to grab Gibbs's wrist, stopping the man from placing the signed contract in an evidence bag. The man raised an eyebrow and Tony realized what he was doing. He took his hand back and forced himself to breathe in slowly, his brain not understanding his body's reaction.

"It's done now," he heard himself say with a low voice he barely recognized.

"Not yet," Gibbs reminded him, "Still have to arrest him. And your friend Booth is with the judge as we speak, waiting for the green light to have him sign the house-warrant. We'll be able to start the house-search by the time he's here."

Tony just nodded, ignoring the worried look his teammates exchanged. They arrived at the meeting point just a few minutes after that. Ziva's driving always helped save some time. Agent Walls was just behind them, but his team was already there. They were a few blocks away from the mansion, and Tony didn't even try to make a joke when he saw everyone in full attire, working on the house's blueprint. He wouldn't admit it, but he was starting to feel more overwhelmed than he'd thought. Actually, no, he knew himself enough to know at some point everything would come crashing down in his mind, the adrenalin rush first. But he hadn't expected for it to happen now.  
><em>Get a hold of yourself<em>.

He couldn't lose it before they began. Something snorted inside his head, and Tony wondered if it was his conscience taking Katie's voice again. _Before they __**began**__?_ It said in his head, _you've been in this thing for nine years_.

He thought Ziva had _definitely_ lost it when her eyes grew big and she whispered "Elena" to him as if she was seeing a ghost. He was about to ask her if she was okay when he actually heard the characteristic sound of heels clapping their way closer.

Ah.

Elena.

.

"E-le-na," this time, he didn't stop himself from pronouncing the letters to taste the name. He turned around and there she was. Walking amongst the FBI agents in full gear as if she didn't even see them. There was fire in her eyes. He thought it echoed the blaze in his guts quite well. Ziva made a step toward her, as if she intended to put herself between them, but he stopped her easily. He walked forward instead, and _she_ stopped, expecting him to come to her. He obliged.

"And so you know," he said, his voice sounded easy and light and he wondered who was talking. "I guess I didn't catch you off-guard _this _time."

She crossed her arms under her chest and raised an eyebrow.

"It doesn't count if you _told me_ yourself."

Tony didn't even wonder if his team could hear them. He really didn't care.

"How would I have done that?" he asked, sounding exaggeratedly interested.

She clenched her jaw for a second, and her eyes were so much clearer than usual, he wondered if she was about to cry. After all he had never seen them so clear, and he had never seen her cry. Tony knew his brain had been put on random-mode to protect him from breaking down, but he also knew it wasn't working because his attention was focused on _her_ with all his mind and soul. Even his body wanted to move forward just to connect with her in _some_ way. He barely even cared that she would probably try to kill him.

"The Odyssey. Ulysses. _The Trojan horse_." He wondered why it took so much effort for her to talk. Was she trying to rein her anger in? He wouldn't put pulling out a knife in the middle of a FBI gathering beyond her but he knew there was something more.  
>He only realized he was smiling (because she <em>had<em> understood the signs) when it hurt.

"I don't see what you're talking about," he said even though the image of the book he left on his bed before he went to shower two days earlier was just floating somewhere between them.

"Of course not," she said, her voice still clipped.

There were a million and one things in the silent exchange that followed. There were words of betrayal and of understanding. There were _how could you_ and _you knew this would happen_. There were memories of nights spent together and the hollowness that came with a future without them. There were threats and promises and Tony probably only imagined half of them but he didn't care because he wouldn't voice them _here_, with _these people_ around.

"So I really was wrong all this time. You're not Achilleus."

Her voice had changed. There was resignation and understanding, and he knew something deep inside her always expected this to happen. She was just now accepting it. Accepting that she had lived with it for weeks anyway.

"I always told you", he answered.

"Yes. You did."

There was another pause, and Tony just knew in his gut that she wasn't going to ask him about the Famiglia's future. She knew she was detached from it because she had never been tied to anything anyway -she was too smart, too discreet for that- and she'd probably be far away when everything went down, but he was still glad she wouldn't ask the question. She wouldn't ask him about the dozens of good people that needed the Achenzas for protection on the streets. She wouldn't ask him about Francesca. She wouldn't even ask him if he had really sent her away just to keep his 'little sister' away from _this_.

"I told him," she said instead.

Tony nodded. He couldn't feel betrayed because he knew that a warning was the least Carmine deserved from Elena, who he had welcomed in his Family when her parents had died.

"He'll be waiting for you," she added.

He nodded again, because this time she had given _him_ a warning. Which meant so fucking much, Tony's brain was going into overdrive with the information. It meant that he hadn't broken everything. It meant that _despite_ everything, she still _cared_. He wondered if it was possible. He wondered if she was just as messed up as he was, because he wanted to lean in and devour her even though he knew This. Was. Over.

"I always knew you followed your principles, Tonio." She didn't need to say much more.

He understood. Damn it, that was the thing, they _never_ needed to say much for them to understand. She always knew he had principles. That they were strong and that he would do anything to stand by them. She probably just didn't know which ones were stronger. The need to protect his family -_the_ family-, to make things right, or the protection of the law. She probably didn't understand he was trying to do both.

He wouldn't tell her now. She'd see it one day, but he didn't want to waste time explaining _now._

He reached into the inside pocket of his vest and took a plane ticket out. He'd had it for days. Something softened in her expression when she took it and glanced at it, probably just curious. He had booked her a flight for France, knowing she could find Francesca from there. She just smiled and shook her head softly. He thought she was putting it in her back pocket when she actually extended him something else.

A plane ticket, with his name on it. To Spain.

He chuckled. Of course. Of _course_.

"They will _all_ be waiting for you," she said, seemingly randomly. As if this had nothing to do with the plane ticket. The escape. The way out and with _her. _

"I'll be alright."

She smirked and he saw her eyes fall on his lips. He knew she wouldn't kiss him. Just like he wouldn't kiss her. Because it would be too hard, too unfair. They could pretend it was okay before. Now it was over. Because of him. She raised her hand as if to touch his chest, but aborted her movement and smiled a humourless, joyless, bitter smile instead. He understood.

She didn't take the time to look into his eyes one last time before she just turned and walked away. He went in the opposite direction, joining his NCIS team by their van as they were strapping their kevlar vests on, all the while observing Tony with obvious interest.

"What was _that_ about?" McGee whispered to no one in particular just before his friend was back.

Tony couldn't help but turn to look at her retreating figure. She wasn't as weak, didn't look back once, but he just didn't care who noticed he couldn't detach his eyes from her.

This was it. He could already feel the frustration building up in him. He could already feel the restlessness that this picture -her back, walking away- would always inflict on him. This feeling of unfinished. This was the story of his life, he thought. He'd had to keep in control, to tell her goodbye and to tell her to leave because that's what was best, so he had done it. What he felt didn't mean _anything_.

His fist clenched again.

Tony turned slightly when he heard movement, and he found Gibbs looking intently at him. The older man leant on the van just next to him and looked at her too as she passed Agent Dunfield and the man stumbled backwards. His boss had that understanding look. The one that spoke of experience, as if he'd had to do this more than once too. Tony wanted to laugh. You don't do this more than once. And because he was Gibbs and he knew Tony needed _something_, he tapped his shoulder and nodded thoughtfully, as if to say "I know what you feel". Tony was startled at the gesture, something waking up in him as he looked at his team leader's knowing face. That thing inside him, that beast, shook itself and snarled, but not at Gibbs, at himself.

Because what the fuck, Gibbs had _no idea. _Maybe he'd had to leave women he cared about. Hell, Tony knew for a fact his boss had. But this was different. Elena wasn't just another girl you kept away to protect her or to protect your career or whatever the hell had happened so many times in the leader and probably a lot of agents' histories. She wasn't the girl you shook hands with a the end of the story as if to say, "well, good game but there has to be a winner and a loser, nothing personal." _Everything_ was personal. And Elena- no, _they_ were more than this.

So he shook his head at Gibbs and jumped forward, jogging his way to her and just knowing in her guts that if she had not expected him to do something, she'd already be far away instead of just reaching her car. Something in the very back of his mind knew that now a _lot_ of people were watching him. People who would find it strange that he was running after a woman so tied with the mafia Famiglia they were trying to arrest, but he just really, truthfully, totally did not care.

He called her name just before she noticed he was following her, and she didn't even pretend to be surprised that he was there. She didn't know _what_ he would do though, and so she couldn't stifle a surprised laugh when he grabbed her hand to turn her his way but finally placed another hand on her waist and made her spin. They had done this so many times that she didn't need to be guided to sway gently in his arms as if they were dressed for a gala and dancing in the middle of a ball room. Or as if he had put one of her favourite songs to play and had pulled her with him in the middle of his study, of his room, of her library, just _because. _It was just a few seconds but she was smiling a _real_ smile, the one that came just before the chuckle, the one that made her head fall back, revealed her throat and gave her jaw just the right angle for him to place a kiss there.

Then he stopped, slid his hand behind her neck, moved her face and just _kissed_ her.

She gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, and he passed an arm behind her back to feel every inch of her body against his. It was hard and soft and paradise and gut-wrenching agony. His heart beat faster and adrenalin shot through every fibre of his body as she attached herself to him, looking for his support when she unknowingly anchored him. He wanted this moment to last as long as possible when at the same time he felt like her lips were burning him and her hands were claws digging into his chest.

That was why they shouldn't have kissed.

Because it was so damn dangerous for his sanity. He was _sure_ that when the contact of her skin disappeared he would be left bleeding and hurting and unable to function. He felt like his body was torn apart and dark bloody wings were spreading out in his back and even though it hurt like hell he could fly. Again, his brain was going into overdrive and this was Too. Fucking. Much.

And then they parted.

He tightened his grip on her when he felt her legs momentarily give out and her eyes widened at her body's reaction but then she looked at him and yes, it had been too much. It had been hard and good and they had felt misery and ecstasy.

But this was exactly right for them.

_This_ was Tony and Elena.

"_This_ is a proper goodbye," he said. His voice was clear and strong because now everything was at least a little bit less wrong.

She placed both her hands on the sides of his face, her palms cold and soft on his skin, and looked at him a long moment. Then she drew closer and touched his lips softly with hers.

"And this is _arriverderci," _she answered.

Then she opened the car door and left.

.

When he came back to his team, the green of his eyes seemed more intense than they'd ever seen, and his hands, as he extended them to take the two guns waiting for him on the table, were shaking in a way that worried McGee. Probie stepped forward to say something, but by the time Tony had checked the magazines of both SIG sauers and loaded the one he didn't put away behind his back, his hands were as steady as a sniper's. McGee glanced at Ziva and snapped his mouth shut.

"We're ready when you are," Agent Walls said as he arrived near them. He was talking to Tony, not to Gibbs, but the older man didn't seem to mind.

"They'll be expecting us. Achenza is not the kind to shoot before he tries getting out of a mess with his lawyers, but some men were just waiting for an excuse to shoot me on sight, so please, be prepared."

"Lorenzo Anconetti?" Gibbs asked knowingly.

"Yes, and a few others. The rest will probably follow Carmine's lead."

"We have two men following Anconetti as we speak, he's not at the Mansion," Agent Walls said confidently. "Are you sure he knows?"

"Don't know for sure, but maybe this won't be so bad then. Tell your two guys to watch their back though, he's not the nice type."

"Boss, Ducky is almost here. He's riding with the paramedics," McGee intervened from behind as he shut his phone. "And Agent Booth is on his way too, he has the warrant."

.

.

It was so strange to watch. Tony felt like he was almost detached from the whole thing as he watched the Mansion he'd been practically living in for days -months, once upon a time- being suddenly invaded by men in black. He chose not to dwell on the fact that every step he took seemed to echo the air of Mozart's 25th symphony. They had a long list of people to arrest, but Tony only had one in mind. He thanked God he didn't see Alceo or Zorzetti anywhere as he made his way into the house in between yells and "_on your knees! Hands behind your backs!_" orders being shot out from everywhere. He was passing by the kitchen door when Ada stumbled out, panicked at the sudden noise and attack from the police. She just froze as she took him in in his NCIS assault gear. She blinked twice and stared some more, her mouth agape.

"I'm sorry Ada," he said softly as he moved her away, pushing her gently back into the kitchen. He didn't care about rule #6, even though he knew the eyes of his team had been locked on him from the moment they'd entered this house. "Please go back and stay away until we are finished here."

"Don Tonio," she whispered, still shocked.

"_Si, Ada, fai quello che ti dico_," he added, his voice reassuring. He knew he had no right to ask her to obey what he said, but she did it anyway.

And then he continued. He didn't doubt a second where he needed to go to find _him_. So he didn't stop, ignoring the men that appeared in front of him because there was always someone around to arrest them and because for the life of him, Tony couldn't focus on anything but the door he could now see at the end of the corridor.

He never stopped walking as he straightened his back, passed a hand through his hair and finally opened it. Not so long ago, he had entered this world by the same door. The one to the Red Room. There had been more people there. But today, Carmine was alone in his chair by the corner, just at the right angle to feel the heat of the fireplace but stay half hidden in the shadow. He had a glass of liquor in one hand and it could have been a photograph of the picture he presented when Tony had arrived a few weeks earlier and Carmine Achenza had just welcomed him with a "You're late."

"You know how many people rely on us," Carmine just said, acting if they'd been in the middle of a conversation. His voice was low but clear, and his eyes never even glanced at the people behind _Tonio_. "You pledged you would protect them."

Tony almost answered "it's not my job" but stifled it. They both knew it wasn't true. He wouldn't pretend he didn't care for those people. That his pledge was just an act. Things weren't half as simple, though sometimes he wished they were.

"You are trying to put your feelings away but you _know_ we are family," Carmine said, and though his voice barely got stronger, his free hand slapped something on the table next to him.

Only then did Tony notice the box. The wooden, carved box that should be locked somewhere in the man's study but was not. The box that hid a collector gun that had almost never been used. Almost. Tony knew what this meant. Tony knew Carmine was reminding him of Tatallia. Of the man _they_ had killed in an insane, blurry fury for Tony. They had _killed_ a man. Because Tony was so angry, because he was so mad, because he'd wanted to protect his family. And Carmine had accepted the violence before he even knew what it was about, because it had been Tony, and Carmine would always be on Tony's side.

Family.

The box being out there could be dangerous. Carmine could tell everything. And people would know what happened nine years earlier. They would also know Tony had always had concrete evidence that could have put the Padrino away. But that wasn't what he was thinking about now. Because that wasn't the reason why the box was there.

"You know," Carmine repeated, "that you are family."

He didn't look so strong. Didn't look so unbreakable and untouchable as before. His voice had an exhausted edge to it and Tony knew without a doubt that the situation was putting a strain on his sickness. The Agent knew the Don, he knew his face and he knew his expressions. He knew he wouldn't actually beg out loud for his _son_'s understanding, but his eyes were. As the man's look flickered to the NCIS team behind and back to him, Tony knew he was telling him "they are not us. They are not family." He remembered the words Achenza had once told Ducky as he was eavesdropping on them. He'd said the Famiglia already considered him as their own flesh and blood. Something Gibbs would and could _never_ offer.

"No, Carmine," Tony said. His voice, implacable, didn't leave room for the weakness the older man had shown. "Anthony DiNozzo Sr. might suck sometimes, but he's the only father I got. And these people," he motioned to the agents who had followed him, knowing without turning that it was his two partners and boss, "they're my _team. _He isn't my father, and she isn't Elena," he added, not needing to point Gibbs and Ziva out to make his point clear. "_And I chose them_."

Angry violins exploded in his chest and this time Tony didn't recognize what piece it was, only that it was intense and grand and deafening and that it carried Carmine's voice as he got up and whispered the words.

"You are breaking my heart."

He drew closer and the music was louder in Tony's ear as he saw him -_Carmine Achenza-_ clutch his chest as if it actually hurt and _stumbled_ to get closer. He gripped Tony's unmoving arms as he repeated, again, and again.

"You are breaking my heart."

And he could have stopped, because anyone could _see_ it break in his eyes, in his face, now looking so open and exposed and vulnerable to Tony. It was the face of a father losing his son. Just as desperate as Julian when he had held Enzo's broken corpse, sitting in his blood, Carmine Achenza was holding Tony close to him. Tony felt every figment of his will steel his body just as securely as the Agnesini brothers had when he had wanted to run to Enzo, to comfort Julian, to promise everything would be fine.

"You were just a mission, Carmine," Tony said.

And then it was over. Shattered. The older man's arms fell limp by his sides, and he just stared. His face so close that Tony couldn't try to shut it out.

"You don't believe this," he whispered.

"You're under arrest," Tony answered.

Yes. It was over.

.

.

This time he recognized the music right away. The rhythm that his heart was beating to. The sound to which his fists clenched and unclenched. _How cliché of myself_, he thought as his chest heaved to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. It deadened every other sound around him, rendering Gibbs's questions to Probie and Ziva white noise as they drove to Washington with Ducky in one of the agency's black sedans.

Gibbs and Booth had decided it would be better to take him to DC. right away. For his protection, they said. Because now a buttload of people were going to come for him before they were arrested themselves. He hadn't cared. He had walked a cuffed Carmine Achenza to the FBI and he had seen him being taken away, the padrino's eyes dead and his mouth shut while other cuffed men were insulting Tony as he passed them by. He had seen Alceo from afar, being forced to move forward by two Feds, and he had seen his eyes light with fury and betrayal as the capo raised his head and found his eyes. He had looked around and seen the beautiful flowers of the garden being crushed as people in black kept pouring from the outside. And he had left.

He wanted to throw up, he realized. He clenched his fists again to keep them from shaking and he forced himself to breathe deeply, but he felt sick and weak as he shivered with cold-sweat and he had to quell a wave of unease coming from his stomach. He wanted to puke, like a rookie after his first adrenalin crash. Except this wasn't just adrenalin, was it?

_You're not a rookie. You've never been a probie. Get a hold of yourself._

He focused on the piano sound he imagined effortlessly but it didn't help. The music hit his already battered chest from the inside and Tony wondered fleetingly how much more it could take before breaking once and for all.

"Tony- Tony?"

He hadn't realized his friends had been calling his name. He couldn't turn to face them from his seat, he felt washed out.

"You look quite pale, Anthony, is everything alright?" Ducky asked, and well, he was Ducky, so he probably knew how fucked up his head was right now. He didn't answer. He knew he should. Make a joke. Say something about how his stomach had forgotten how Gibbs drove. But he couldn't. He just leant his head back and closed his eyes. The others didn't try to talk to him again for the rest of the ride.

They left him at his apartment. He hadn't said a word to complain, but as he got out of the car Gibbs had leant in and locked eyes with him.

"Go, take a shower, a nap, eat something. I don't care, just don't show your face at work before I tell you to."

"Sure, Boss," Tony answered neutrally and left.

.

He wasn't exactly sure what happened between the moment he saw the car leave, and the moment he woke up, feeling just as exhausted as before. Judging by the numb state he was in, he guessed it was a good thing that he had fallen into a coma instead of dwelling on his situation.

He knew it was still early in the evening just by the light that filtered through the closed curtains. Wait a minute, why were they closed? He never bothered with them. He heard steps in his living room just as he was getting up from his bed. Whoever was there was trying to be discreet. Tony opened the first drawer of his bedside table and took out the gun hidden there.

He walked slowly to the door of the bedroom and counted to three before he slammed it open, gun drawn and ready to shoot.

"Woah, woah, Tony, stop!"

Abby was frozen, hands in the air. Tony's eyes went from the spoon hanging from her mouth to the ice cream tub in her hand to her pink pyjamas and back to her face again. He snorted and shook his head.

"Sorry, Abbs, should've known," he murmured with an apologetic smile and a shrug.

He put the gun away and looked around. He really shouldn't have been surprised to see the little camp Abby had settled in his living room. There was a much-too-large quilt on his couch, along with comfy looking pillows that weren't his. The TV was on, but muted, and a portable computer was on his coffee table. Abby had obviously made herself comfortable enough. He spotted the stack of beef jerky on the table, just beside the pile of candy she had probably arranged very carefully there. He could see it was his favourites, and he felt a surge of affection for the girl with the spoon in her mouth.

"Well, at least you're in '_constant vigilance'!" _Abby said, using a gruff tone and crossing her eyes.

"I have _no_ idea whose impression this was supposed to be," Tony chuckled as he took the tub from her hand.

"You don't know Mad-eye Moody? From Harry Potter?" she asked, feigning shock.

"Yeah, you're confusing me with McElf-Lord here, Abbs. I know he lost a few pounds and learnt how to dress properly, but come on!"

She rolled her eyes and fake smacked his arm in defence of their absent friend. He stopped her hand and brought her closer, giving her a side hug and kissing her temple.

"Missed you, Abbs."

"You swear?"

"Solemnly," he nodded over-dramatically and she smiled. Moving to the couch, he observed the new organization of his living room once more and looked at her. "So, you're moving in?"

"Just for the night. When they told me you were _back_, like back for _real_ and alone at your place, I couldn't resist. Wait- wait is this okay? I mean, I always do that, I always come uninvited and maybe you wanted to be alone! Oh no, maybe you wanted to see someone else. Are you expecting anyo- no, that's none of my business. I know I should stop being so nosy, Gibbs has been telling me to try and, you know, control my urges when it came to you. And he's right, I've been like, trespassing into your personal space for so long, I don't understand why you didn't change your locks to keep me out or something, -"

"Abby, stop. It's okay. If I didn't want you here, I'd tell you, simple as that."

She looked at him for a long moment, but finally accepted his words as true with a nod and bounced forward, pulling him with her on the couch.

"What do you say we have a little movie marathon?"

She was slipping under the quilt and rearranging the pillows to make him some space, and as he watched her with amusement, he didn't answer fast enough. Already the doubt was back in her tone as she stopped and fixed her gaze on her hands.

"Or we could do something else, like … listening to music or... reading or something. I don't know, it's up to you, whatever you prefer."

Ah. So it was about the tapes. Tony sighed and closed his eyes. He knew he'd have to explain a _lot_ of things in the following days, but he hadn't prepared himself to start with this. He'd thought he'd start with the big things, like, you know, explaining he hadn't gone rogue. But as he looked at his best friend's averted gaze as she tried to sound casual, he knew he didn't exactly have a choice. He had given her the tapes, after all. He'd done it when he'd thought that the higher authorities would start asking questions about his team's involvement in his actions, and he'd wanted to give them the evidence that could clear them (or make believe it was a team operation). D_on't lie to yourself_, his conscience nagged at him. He also gave her the tapes when he thought he might break. When he had stepped out of the purely legal, moral path to embrace something darker and more dangerous as he walked the fine line between two very real, soul-tearing, gut-seizing worlds.

And so apparently she'd listened to those tapes. And he hadn't exactly been _her_ Tony these past few weeks. She had seemed to step completely out of her comfort zone as she offered to do something else. Listen to music, read... things she probably didn't know he liked to do when alone. He hadn't really realized she'd feel that way when he'd given her the tapes. His mind was too crowded to think of such seemingly trivial things. And now he had to face Abby's confusion and doubt. He knew instinctively what it was about.

"Come on, Abby. You _know_ me."

His words seemed to surprise Abby for some reason.

"Wow, weird. Gibbs said exactly the same thing. Like... _exactly." _

"Well, you should have listened then," Tony said with a smile and she smiled back with more confidence.

He slid with her under the covers and she turned to move closer to him, leaning her side against his chest. She had already put a movie in the DVD player, and he couldn't help but laugh when she pressed play and The Rocky Horror Picture Show started.

"Do you want to talk?" she asked, her eyes locked on the moving red lips showing on the screen.

"Not now, Abbs."

"You'll come to me when you do?"

"Always do."

She nodded, satisfied, and didn't add anything more on the subject.

It was almost 2200 hours when McGee texted Tony they hadn't found Lorenzo-Say-your-prayers yet. He had added that Gibbs expected Tony at the office the next morning at 0800 sharp, and DiNozzo could just hear the "or don't bother showing your face" that went with the order. Sighing, he glanced at Abby, who had fallen asleep a few minutes earlier in the middle of movie number 2. She must have been exhausted, Tony knew. Which was why he was really careful not to wake her as he got up and went to the living room's window. He only took a quick look outside before he smiled and shook his head. He walked to his bedroom to pick up his phone and went back to the window, already dialling.

"_Hello_?" Ziva answered right away.

"You don't need to stay outside my apartment, Ziva. They're not coming for me tonight."

"_How do you know?_"

She didn't bother denying where she was, probably aware that he had spotted her car.

"I know how they work. They'll be trying to cover their asses first, destroy all the evidence they can think about."

"_Then they'll take care of you_."

"Well, they'll certainly try."

"_I'm not going anywhere,_" she concluded decisively.

"Yes you are. Come on I'm cooking for Abbs and you tonight."

He hung up before she answered but he stayed at his spot to observe her car. Nothing happened for a few minutes but then she finally opened her door and he could just feel her looking up at his window. He smiled at her even though he knew she couldn't see him.

Tony was opening his door before Ziva had even rung the bell, and she rolled her eyes at his proud grin.

"So, is this gonna become a thing between us?" Tony said right away. "I look after you in my car outside your apartment and a few weeks later you do the same for me?"

"There is a difference," Ziva noted as she put her coat in his waiting hands.

"Which is?"

"You knew no one would come after me that night. I'm here because I know someone _will_."

Tony tsk-tsk-ed and tilted his eyes, giving her his knowing look and raising an eyebrow.

"We both know that's not the only reason you're here."

"And why else would I be?"

"Well, you're worried about me. You want to take care of me. You didn't want to leave me out of your sight. I could go on for hours like that!" his tone was teasing and she rolled her eyes again, but she didn't deny it, just smiled and entered the living room where Abby was waking up.

"Oh, hey Ziva, want to join our movie marathon?"

"Nope, Ziva's helping me in the kitchen," Tony said before the Irsraeli could answer.

"Tony it's already super-late," Abby answered as she checked her watch.

"You need to eat something other than candy today, Abbs."

.

Ziva was already in the kitchen, opening the cupboards as if she was home, when Abby admitted she was getting hungry. He couldn't cook the unpronounceable Indian dish she apparently craved, but he could make something up for three. His partner had apparently read his mind, she had already taken the spaghetti out. He was cutting tomatoes to quickly make a sauce when she turned to him.

"So you're back?"

Her voice was soft and undemanding. She asked the question in that tone of hers that meant "I'm not really interested, just, you know, curious" but that never fooled anyone. The one that meant she cared, even if she was supposed to be a Mossad-ninja-chick.

He almost answered that he had never left, but then he noticed the stress lines that were so rarely visible on her face, the tense shoulders, the position -too straight- and he sighed instead. He had no right to say that. Not when she had felt his absence so acutely. Because she didn't know he'd be back. _None of them really did_.

"I never intended to leave."

She nodded and something eased in her body, but she still looked self-conscious, as if on her guard for some reason.

"I'll probably _never_ want to, Zee," he self with a soft chuckle as he shook his head. Strangely enough, the truth of that statement suddenly struck him as pathetic, and he stopped smiling.

"But maybe someday you'll think you _have_ to," Ziva answered, looking up into his eyes in the way she always did when she wanted to show she wasn't afraid to say what she thought. When she wanted to read the feelings her words inflicted. When she defied him. And looked for reassurances.

"If that day comes and you think my judgement is all wrong and my head is screwed backwards, please get it straight." He had stopped what he was doing altogether to turn around and make sure she knew he was dead serious, even though his eyes were just as warm as his voice. "I leave it to you, Zee."

She raised an eyebrow.

"That is a really big responsibility."

"I trust you with it," he nodded and turned back to what he was doing.

She stared at him for a few more seconds, and then turned her attention away too.

.

.

Ziva had gone home very late that night, but Abby had stayed. For the first time in years, the forensic specialist that was his friend chose not to sleep in his bed. Tony didn't notice how unusual it was until the next morning, and he cursed himself silently because he had been too distracted to even ask her why on earth she picked the couch over his giant, comfy bed. He chose not to reflect on the guilt that crept deeper in his chest... he hated that a part of him was relieved she hadn't followed him into his bedroom. He had needed the privacy. And he wasn't sure he was ready to let anyone sleep by his side at the moment, even platonically.

She had woken him up with a knock on his door, but she hadn't entered. She hadn't even peeked. And once again, he had felt glad that he was alone in his room to compose himself. He had felt glad that he was the only one to see the face reflected to him on the mirror as he fastened his tie.

And then, he was back at the office. Just like that.

He was particularly early, so he wasn't surprised to be the only one behind his desk in the bullpen. Gibbs was probably somewhere in the building judging by the empty coffee cup that was already on his desk. His phone buzzed just as he fired up his computer (God, he felt like it had been months). He looked at the caller id and braced himself. Well, they were starting early it seemed.

"Hey Seeley," Tony answered, muttering a swear word as he spotted the number of unread emails he had on the screen.

"_Always a pleasure to talk to you too_," FBI Agent Booth said amicably. "_You did a hell of a job yesterday, Tony. My boss is giddy with excitement._"

"I'm glad," the NCIS agent said with a small smile, scrolling through the emails.

"Y_eah, so much so that he started the interrogation first thing this morning. Told him you and your team would want in, and he doesn't seem to mind much, as long as the FBI directs them_."

"So we can only watch?"

"Y_eah well, you should be glad. Half the original team in charge of the Achenza case still thinks you're not clean._"

Tony didn't answer, his eyes still on the screen, so Agent Booth went on with a sigh.

"_I told them it was ridiculous. You brought down the whole ring almost by yourself, but they're right about something: you didn't exactly do it by the book_."

"Did they already open an investigation on me?" Tony asked, unmoved.

He could sense his basketball buddy hesitating on the other end of the line.

"_I think they did. They wouldn't tell me straight, you know how they can be._"

Yes, Internal Affairs could be a bitch, the agent knew.

"_What do you want to do about it, Tony?"_

Behind his desk, Tony leaned back on his chair and closed his eyes, abandoning his emails for the moment. He could feel his friend wanting to help, and he really appreciated it. He wondered if he deserved such loyalty.

"Nothing, Booth. If they think they should investigate me, let them. As long as it doesn't hinder the case, I don't care."

"Y_ou don'_t _care? What the- Tony this is serious."_

"Booth."

"Okay, okay, I get it, you're a big boy. I just hope you don't care because you have nothing to hide. Look, I'm not in charge of the case anymore, Sticks's team and the IA took over."

Tony remembered Agent Sticks from their first meeting, when the FBI agent had brought Carmine Achenza back into his life, not even beginning to understand what it meant or what it would start. He had disliked Sticks from his very first sentence, and he was pretty sure he had made the feeling mutual by the end of that day. He sighed and shook his head, that was just perfect.

"_They started with low rank 'soldiers' or whatever they call themselves. I don't know how loyalty is supposed to work for them, because they're ready to sell mother and father for a deal._"

"It will get harder to make them talk as you go up the food chain," Tony answered, not surprised.

"_Always is, I guess. But the evidence you found is pretty damning for most of the big wigs, we probably won't need confessions to put them behind bars_."

"Let me know when they start talking to the important people," Tony said as he spotted the elevator open on his two partners, talking with small smiles.

"_Will do, but Sticks has already been ordered to let your boss know everything anyway. You weren't joking about that Gibbs guy, huh?_"

"Told you," Tony said with a smirk.

He had shut the phone by the time McGee and Ziva were at their desks. Tim had paused for a second when he had seen Tony behind his, and then a big, satisfied, smile had eaten half his face. The SFA chuckled at the reaction.

"It's good to have you back, Tony," Tim said with obvious sincerity.

"Gibbs has been that grouchy, huh?" Tony answered teasingly.

"No- well, yes, actually, but you know that's not what I meant."

"Yes, he knows, McGee," Gibbs's voice came from behind their desks and they both turned to see their boss on the staircase leading to the director's office.

"I do, boss," Tony confirmed, barely hiding the smile the whole exchange brought to his face.

"So, what've we got?" Gibbs went on like he always did when he came striding into the bullpen.

Tony shrugged, eyes big and innocent:

"Did you catch a case during my – _leave_ of absence? I had no idea!" he leant comfortably on his chair and watched, amused, as Ziva shook her head and Tim snorted.

Gibbs just rolled his eyes and turned to his two other agents.

"So? Do I need to spell it out?"

"No boss, but we just got here and we don't know much yet. I'll call the FBI right away," Tim answered more seriously, putting his bag aside and already dialling on the phone.

"Oh, so you're talking about _this _case. I wasn't sure the Director would want us on it seeing as how it's not exactly Navy related and all," Tony resumed, and he wiped the smile when Gibbs's glare grew just a bit more impatient.

He could always read the boss. Some part of him was actually thrilled to know they could still communicate like that, with jokes and glares. Because he knew there was so much more behind it all. One glare, and Gibbs was telling him that they were still on the case because one of them -_Tony_- was involved. One glare and he was telling him that they would be on it until DiNozzo's name was completely cleared, because they were _his_ team, and they had _his _back. One glare, and Gibbs was telling him to cut the crap now, because it was business time.

"Just talked to Booth, boss. He said they started the interrogations, but just with the low-ranked. He said they were eager to say everything they knew in exchange for a deal."

"Well, that was quick," McGee noted. "Aren't they usually more hard to crack? Why are they all so ready to make deals?"

"Maybe they know the FBI already has the info against them?" Ziva said, throwing a knowing look Tony's way. Ah, her Mossad experience always gave her the best insights when related to information, blackmail, and all the pretty stuff you learn from secret services, Tony remembered.

"Maybe. Don't know, but they don't have anything really interesting on the higher ranks," he explained confidently.

"If they know there is damning evidence against them, they're going to start tearing each other apart to make deals," Tim said thoughtfully as he scratched the light stubble Tony had noticed he hadn't shaved.

"Are any of them going to say anything about _you_, Tony?"

Ziva's question seemed to slap everyone into silence. She was looking at him almost innocently, her eyebrows raised in wait of an answer.

"No, they won't," Tony answered, refusing to let the dead air linger. His voice was detached and held absolutely no trace of hesitation or doubt.

"So _no one_ has _anything_ on you?" she insisted, her usual tactless ways still holding strong.

He shrugged in the ringing quietness that seemed to punctuate each of her questions.

"Or maybe they just know you have _more_ on _them_...?" she added as if she hadn't seen his non-committal shrug.

He heard the words and the memory of the last few days came back hitting his brain. The folders Elena had given him. The info she and Alceo had found on the people that really mattered. The ones that could really bring him down if they talked.

He _couldn't _be linked to any of the famiglia's activity. If he was, the evidence he'd found would not hold in court because he would be tainted. His word would be tainted. And this couldn't happen.

_Yes, Ziva_, he wanted to answer, _they know_. He had made sure they wouldn't even utter his name to the police. Information really was power.

Tony's silence was apparently not enough for Gibbs, who had walked around his desk and was now facing his SFA, entering his personal space and condemning all possible escape routes. The boss opened his mouth to ask the question, but then abruptly shut it, and Tony just _knew_ why Leroy Jethro Gibbs ended up not saying anything. He could understand the glare. The tension oozing from his boss. The clenched jaw and the furrowed brows. He _knew_ his boss wanted to _make_ him answer Ziva's question because he needed the reassurance that Tony had watched his back. He needed to know that Tony was out of harm's way.

But it was too intimate, somehow. It was _worry. _Unprofessional, illogical. The kind that meant "if you didn't take care of this, I will." The kind that Gibbs, law-abiding, federal agency's _cop_, was not supposed to say. Was not even allowed to think, actually.

So he didn't say anything. But Tony knew anyway. Just like he knew this conversation was not over.

.

As he ordered them to grab their gear because they were paying a visit to the FBI, Gibbs watched his SFA carefully. DiNozzo didn't even hesitate as he jumped out of his chair, picked up his bag and went to call the elevator, followed by his partners. If he was that kind of guy, Gibbs would have had a warm feeling spreading in his chest at the sight. But he wasn't, so he just nodded his head to how right that scene was and looked up. He had known Vance would be there, observing from his vantage point. They'd had a long and nice talk that very morning. Gibbs had known the director would be expecting him earlier so he'd come at 0700 just for that. Now things were clear. Vance, who had to be the sceptical one because of his position and responsibilities _needed_ clear answers.

"So he's in our team?" the director had asked as he opened the first toothpick of the day and put it in his mouth. He had his back to Gibbs, looking out the window, and Jethro had smirked and joined him.

"Yes, he is."

"Never gone rogue?" Vance insisted.

"Never," Gibbs said, even though he knew that if Tony'd had doubts at some point, nobody would ever know.

"For some reason, I feel like we should be damn glad." Vance admitted with a sigh as he shook his head. He wasn't happy he felt that way, that much was obvious. Gibbs snorted.

"Yeah, who knows how much power Tony'd have if he really took the head of the Achenzas."

"With the way he made it to the top in just a few weeks, I don't even want to imagine."

"Careful, Leon, keep talking and you might say something good about DiNozzo's skills."

The director rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"I might not like his attitude, but I'm not stupid, Gibbs. Why do you think I keep offering him promotions?" He paused and shook his head again, as if it was a hard thing to admit, even to himself.

Stepping away from the window, he went to his chair and sat on it, still chewing on his toothpick.

"DiNozzo is the guy that makes you say _Damn, he did it." _

Gibbs chuckled softly as he remembered that bit of his earlier conversation with the director.

"Boss, you coming?" Tony called from the elevator.

The team leader hadn't even realized he'd been looking at Vance for several seconds, lost in thoughts. He nodded to his SFA and mentally agreed with the director. Yeah, _Anthony_ Fucking _DiNozzo_.

.

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><p>.<p>

Please, do **tell me what you think about the chapter.**

It's almost the end and your feedback is really important to me right now :)

**Next chapter**: Carmine's interrogation and other nice stuff like that.


	25. Chapter 25 Part 1 - I got you I got you

Hi. I've been very sick, which has delayed the posting of this chapter though it has been written for quite some time. I'm sorry about that, but let's not think about this horrible period anymore.

**IMPORTANT :** I couldn't post the whole chapter at once for it is really long isn't complete yet. So here's part **ONE**. Part two is coming really soon (still has to be betaed). **We're talking days, not weeks or months**.

Note:  
><em><strong>Stand-up guy<strong>_ : in the mafia world is the guy who won't give up any kind of information to the police if he's arrested, even if he's threatened or has to take the fall for everyone.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Can't feel my legs and I'm starting to develop claustrophobia in here, I'll be right back."

Tony smirked and nodded but didn't say anything as McGee walked out of the observation room the Feds had allowed them access to. They had arrived very early in the morning, and it was almost three in the afternoon, but he hadn't moved from his spot, only sitting occasionally. There was another break now, they were bringing a new guy. Tony briefly wondered where Ziva had gone to but mentally shrugged, focusing on his boss, by his side, and obviously about to say something important.

Out of the six guys they had interrogated that day, Gibbs had been on the other side of the glass for only three. For the remaining ones, he had been standing next to Tony to watch. DiNozzo could feel the gaze of his boss burning the side of his face most of the time when they were in the same room. He knew Gibbs was paying as much attention to him as to the perps interviewed. Maybe more, because they hadn't been very interesting.

At the fourth guy, another man had entered the scene. He was no older than Tony himself, wore shadows under his eyes but was well groomed and all business. From the very first question he asked, Tony knew.

"And that's the guy who's out to get us."

Gibbs had said it aloud but to himself, as it sometimes happened when the silence in a room was too deafening. Tony didn't correct the "us" because everyone in the room knew the boss meant _him. _Ziva had made a step forward, to observe the IA agent more closely. She was squinting a bit, as if trying to analyse everything about him to know about his strengths and his flaws. As if she was getting ready to take him down any minute.

More surprisingly, McGee mirrored her movement, getting so close to the glass that his breath left a layer of condensation on it. When he turned to check Gibbs reaction, he found the eyes of his boss once again locked on him. Observing him and _telling_ him. He'd made no mistake. "To get _us"_. Tony's chest constricted but he just turned back to the interrogation before him.

"What do you know of Anthony DiNozzo?"

"Don Ton-," the perp slipped and corrected himself lazily, "Anthony DiNozzo. Was capo, hard to replace when he died, came back as an agent, took back his position as a capo, was made Achenza and Padrino by Don Carmine. Ended up being an agent again."

Tony didn't need to turn to know the astonished look McGee now wore. He felt the eyes of the FBI tech agent working the computers and recording everything at a table just behind him, and he wondered for a second what a stranger could be making of everything. His shoulders were relaxed but his back was straight though. He knew no soldiers would say anything about him. They knew better. They were so easily afraid. And they didn't have enough information to make it worth it to talk. Even after a betrayal, helping the cops wasn't in the spirit.

"What did you think about him?"

The IA guy was patient and straight to the point, choosing to pick one question at a time when every agent in the room probably had twenty popping in their heads.

The soldier, a nameless man Tony had seen twice in his life shrugged, not answering.

"I hear every 'Don' gets a nickname once they get their title. What was his?"

Their was no taunting, no belittling with snide remarks and a tone oozing irony like the FBI agents had done earlier. The IA was apparently not stupid. Low ranked soldiers could get angry and shout information unwittingly, but not the kind he was after.

"Didn't have time to get a real one. But some of the guys that weren't sure about him called him The Great."

"Doesn't sound too bad to me," Agent Sticks intervened, making it a question.

"They didn't think it, they said it because they heard Don Carmine say it one day."

"That DiNozzo was great?"

"No. It goes 'Some men are meant to be happy, others to be great.' It something we heard sometimes from the Don. And then when he replaced Emilio with Tonio, he told Emilio that he was good, but that he needed great. One of the guys heard them. Emilio didn't take it well."

Tony allowed himself a clenched fist, but not much more. The thumping on his chest almost making him miss the rest.

"So they were calling him the Great ironically?" the IA asked, obviously trying to keep thing as clear as possible. Tony didn't doubt he was the kind of guys that kept his desk all neat and tidy to make it functional.

"At first. But then he wiped out the Matteras from the map, and it wasn't just for fun anymore. And when he crushed Haynes and did _not_ kill him on sight when he arrived at the manor? Yeah, the guys got serious about the Don."

"Is this respect I'm hearing?" Sticks looked like he had to ask, unbelieving.

"If I see him in the street, he gets two in the mouth," was the only answer, and Sticks looked somewhat relieved at what he found a more normal reaction toward a traitor. He apparently didn't notice that the soldier hadn't said _no_ at all.

.  
>.<p>

That had been the first interrogation with the IA man, and Tony had to admit he'd made it much more interesting than the previous ones. But now it was long into the afternoon, and Tony could almost feel the tension climb higher and higher every minute. Gibbs waited just until the tech guy left for a coffee break before he got up and walked to his agent.

"Can any of them bring you down?" Gibbs asked, straight to the point.

Tony wasn't stupid, he knew his boss wasn't asking just about the people they'd seen that day, he was asking about _all_ of them, he was asking if the IA guy would have anything on him that could make their lives hell. Tony knew there was always a chance he'd missed something. He knew Lorenzo would probably do everything in his power to make him pay and that perhaps IA would be his way to do it, but he didn't believe any of that would really matter in the end.

"Just one," he answered quite quickly. Tony had already thought about it. He had spent years thinking about it.

"Who?" Gibbs barked unhappily.

And it was a legitimate question, really. Gibbs was ready to fend off anyone trying to touch his team, and it was only fair to give him a heads up for anything that could be said against his SFA. But Tony just turned and smiled at him, his lips twitching in something sharp and cold that made Gibbs squint his eyes and grind his teeth. Maybe he understood without hearing the name. The _only_ name that could make his agent's face transform like that.

"What did you do?"

Tony should have been used to it by then. The flashes in his mind. The sudden ache in his knuckles. He should be used to the flare of hatred and confusion in his chest, the latter because he couldn't tell who he hated more, Tataglia for what he had tried to do, or himself for what he did as a reaction. But he wasn't used to any of it, and it still came as a punch to his gut every time. He didn't flinch though. He just turned away, not sure he could look in his boss's eyes as he said it. As he felt that way.

"I got mad."

There was a long silence then, and the door was suddenly opened. Fornell, who had been overseeing the whole thing because no other agent worked well with Gibbs, barely called his old friend's name and walked back out. Gibbs threw a last look at his SFA and followed his FBI counterpart outside to see what he wanted.

.

.

That had been more than ten minutes earlier, and Tony checked his watch as the tech guy started playing with his material again, ready for the next interrogation. Then McGee came back too, and he asked something about nobody being back yet, but his partner could barely hear it.

Tony felt as if the air was slowly becoming suffocating and he was progressively dying from oxygen deprivation that he would only notice when it was to late and he was passing out. If he didn't know better, maybe he'd have agreed with McGee and went to stretch his legs outside because he was getting claustrophobic. But he did know better. And even at the top of a mountain he would have felt the same.

He clenched his fist again and allowed himself to pass a hand on his face, wincing at the electric shock that it seemed to produce. It felt like his nerves were too sensitive. Like his skin was hurting, but just enough to feel the discomfort and _know_ that he could be sent writhing in agony any minute. As if it was stretched just a bit too tight, but it could suddenly start tearing until he was left bare and exposed.

He knew why he felt like that.

He knew why Fornell had come into the room ten minutes earlier and had asked Gibbs to follow him, not once glancing Tony's way.

As Ziva came back with a vitamin water in hand, he knew that Gibbs wouldn't.

And he knew who would be brought inside that interrogation room next.

Carmine Achenza.

.

.

"Why isn't Richards saying anything?" McGee asked, not bothering to pretend he wasn't unnerved by the scene. It was comprehensible, actually. Agent Richards, the IA man who Fornell had finally named, was sitting by Sticks and Gibbs, watching Carmine Achenza with a blank face a he listened silently to the interrogation.

Tony could barely think straight, the wait was excruciating. He didn't know what he was expecting himself, really. Sticks had been asking all the usual questions, going by the book. Achenza, who hadn't asked for a lawyer yet, was answering very calmly, as composed as ever. His face had regained some colours since the last time DiNozzo had seen him (when he _arrested_ him), he was sitting straight but relaxed, his hands were on the table, unmoving, and his eyes didn't once wander toward the reflective glass behind which the NCIS team and a few other FBI agents stood watching. He looked almost exactly like the first time the Feds had brought him into the Navy Yard and Tony had offered to take them to the interrogation room to talk. The only difference was in his eyes. There was something missing in his eyes. Tony couldn't name it, of course, but he knew _he_ was the one who took it.

Carmine had been in the interrogation room for more than ten minutes, and Gibbs had done exactly like Richards, keeping his mouth shut and watching. Achenza had smiled pleasantly at him when he had entered the room, as if they were old acquaintances crossing paths, but the NCIS agent hadn't even bat an eye. And now Tony wondered what on earth Sticks could still be asking. It was obvious Carmine was not going to give them _anything_. It was also obvious that he knew he was busted, because he wasn't trying to get out of any accusation, he just refused to comment on them. Sticks asked about Leo Turner, about the contract he'd signed, about the specifics of what it entitled, and Carmine just accepted everything.

And then, all of a sudden, Agent Richards interrupted Sticks with a calm but strong voice:

"Do you know why you are here?"

"Well, I think your colleague has made it quite clear," Carmine said with a raised eyebrow.

"No, you've been at the head of a mafia family for years, but you've never really had any problem with the police, have you? Do you know why we were able to get you now?"

Agent Richards wasn't as calm as he'd been previously, despite his poised tone and detached air. He looked like a dog who was smelling his prey somewhere close and got excited. Carmine's eyes traveled up and down to observe the IA agent, and Tony knew he was sensing it too.

"I believe you are about to tell me."

"DiNozzo."

There was a long pause after the one-word answer, and it rung like an accusation. Gibbs's head turned very slowly toward Richards, and Tony didn't need to see him to know that his eyes were dead cold.

"Ah," Carmine finally said, half-nodding.

"DiNozzo brought your family down," Richards insisted.

"Yes, that he did," Carmine said simply.

"How?"

"Well enough, I'd say." the Don added.

DiNozzo knew that, had he not been so focused, Gibbs would have smirked. Carmine was playing with Richards.

"How do you think he was able to do it?" the IA man went on, unfazed.

"I should have known. You have enough to 'bring me down', as you put it, so you use this interrogation to investigate on Anthony," Carmine said matter-of-factly, shaking his head slowly. " The very agent that made it possible for you to have _me,"_ he added with a sneer.

"Are you angry at him?" Richards asked, ignoring the accusation.

"Why? For being good? I already knew that," Carmine said quickly, as if dismissing the question to get back to a more serious matter. "If you do succeed in proving him guilty of anything illegal, you know my lawyer will find a way to prove the evidence you have against _me _was obtained illegally and you will have to drop the charges. Why would you take that risk?"

"You think he was _good_? And my job isn't to put you behind bars at all costs, I am here to make sure everyone followed the rules, and I will arrest those who didn't regardless of the consequences."

"Plus, you'd rather know if I have something against him now so that I can't divulge it in court and make a fool out of you in addition to walking free for good," Carmine completed knowingly, his lips pinched in what Tony knew to be disapprobation.

"You think he was good?" Agent Richard repeated. Carmine stared at him for a long moment before finally letting go of the previous subject. 

"How could I say he wasn't, I am here, aren't I?"

"How do you explain it?" 

"I feel like we are repeating ourselves, Agent. Maybe you could let Agent Gibbs conduct the rest of the interrogation?"

Gibbs turned to Richards again, and Tony could see in the profile of his boss that he was raising an ironic eyebrow at the IA agent. Richards didn't seem to care.

"Unless Agent Gibbs is not allowed to take part in this _fascinating_ conversation. Conflict of interest, perhaps?" Carmine asked as he observed the two men before him (completely ignoring Sticks now).

"How did he fool you? How could you accept him back in your family after he killed both your sons and faked his death? Did you _know_ he was still working with a federal agency? What was the plan?" Sticks asked in an uninterrupted flow, and Richards's head snapped his direction to shut him up, but too late.  
>Carmine was smiling now. The dangerous, intense smile that those men didn't even begin to comprehend, but that Tony <em>knew<em>. 

"Thank you, Agent Sticks, for making everything so much clearer. So you think Anthony was corrupted. On my 'payroll', as you say?" contempt was flowing from Achenza's words, and for the first time since the moment he walked in, his eyes shot up to the mirroring glass and Tony knew the next words were for him.  
>"And you chose <em>them<em>? Ungrateful and stupid, ready to get rid of you because they can't see your talent? **You chose **_**them?**"  
><em>

_ .  
><em>

Tony's whole body was hard with tension, he wanted to move even closer to the glass, he wanted to be on the other side, he wanted to answer the questions Richards was asking Carmine and he wanted to beat the idiot IA man that knew _nothing._

"Anthony succeeded because **I** gave him my trust. And I gave him my trust because he _deserved_ it," Carmine clenched his fist on the table and his eyes were so focused on Agent Richards that he looked like he could make the man's head explode with the intensity in his eyes.  
>"Because when I see talent I. don't. waste. it. And when I see <em>such<em> talent, I am greedy and I want it all for myself!" 

Tony could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Don Carmine lose his temper. He could never forget the _"Nobody touches MY house, MY family," _that had haunted more than one night in the nine years following his undercover operation in Baltimore. Those eyes, that expression, that barely concealed indignant rage was the same. It was Carmine Achenza, defending his family.

"I knew there was a risk. But I wanted to trust him _more_. I needed him to take my place and I convinced myself that he would stay with us because I'm _arrogant_ and I thought I could offer him enough. And if he hadn't been _so_ good, our love and respect _would_ have been enough. Do you understand?"  
>Carmine said, and this time he slammed his fist on the table and moved his upper body closer, bending over the table to make sure Richards was looking at him. His face was pale and his eyes were wide and even more focused.<p>

"Do you know _why_ he gave us up? Because he couldn't betray his _values_. Do you think he hated me? Do you think that all that time he was with me, he despised my principles, my ways? No.** He. Respects. me**. He _respects_ what I do. It's the business he can't accept. Do you have _any_ idea-" he got up, pushing his chair backward in a sudden movement and drawing even closer. His voice was dripping power and attracted everyone's attention hypnotizingly.

"Do you have _any _idea how hard it must have been for him to do? Can you imagine how he _tore_ his soul in two, bringing down people he _loved _like family?"

.

It was almost invisible in the flurry of commotion, in the cries and intensity, in the anger, the pain and the _pride _oozing from Carmine Achenza as he told the world what Tony felt, but the agent saw _**it**_ anyway.

Tony pushed away McGee's hand, which he hadn't felt was on him, and ignored Ziva's call. He walked past the FBI agents and shoved the one that tried to stop him from entering the interrogation room. The voices were muffled as the three interrogators and the FBI agents from outside protested. The only clear thing he could hear was the ragged breath of the man standing there, his fist still clenched, his shoulders drooping and his face, paler than ever, now covered in a fine layer of sweat.

"You don't deserve Anthony DiNozzo's loyalty," Carmine was growling just as Tony opened the door. "**You. Don't. Deserve. Him**."

His voice quivered at the end and Tony was pushing the last restraining hand away just in time to grab Don Carmine Achenza under the arms when the older man stumbled backward, one hand clutching his heart.

"Call an ambulance," he ordered, his voice booming over the chaos and so authoritative that agents scrambled out to obey. Carmine's weight suddenly become harder to carry as the man's legs gave out and Tony prevented his fall. "I got you. I got you," he repeated to himself even as Carmine's seizing body went unconscious. "**I got you.**"

.

.

.

He was alone now. People had run in and out of the room, the emergency team had arrived, Gibbs had forced Tony's hands out of the way, then they had left. Gibbs had grabbed Tony, pushed him through the doors and somehow they had entered the observation room where there was no one but his team anymore. He hadn't wondered who had made the others leave. He hadn't answered his partners' questions. He had felt the fever on his skin and the freezing cold grip on his guts. He had felt his neck and palms prickling and had pushed away the hand that had tried to hold his shoulder. He had known in his guts he was not acting normally and that it was bad, so he had shaken his head and managed a smile, not knowing how cold it looked. Then he had finally been left alone.

He wondered if what he felt was the effect of _tearing his soul in two_. He wondered if those alien feelings making his hands tremble were the results of _bringing down people he loved for his principles_. Or maybe it was just hearing those words. Hearing them tumbling down the mouth of someone else. Maybe it was just the results of hearing _pride_ in the voice of a man he had stabbed in the back.

Tony had to make an effort not to cry out in... in pain? In anger? He didn't even know what it was he felt. Just that his heart was beating too fast and that cold sweat now covered his back. Just that he wanted to hit flesh and feel bones crack, but that it wouldn't be possible because he was almost sure it was himself he wanted to hurt. He slammed his hands on the closest thing, the table where the tech material was. The thunder like sound it made seemed to go well with what was happening inside his head.

So he pounded on it again. And again.

He grabbed the only chair in the room and banged it on the ground, once, twice, reveling in the release of physical tension it allowed. Then kicked it out of his reach. The silence was deafening now. His chest was heaving as his hands went to his face and stayed there. His back slid against the one-way glass and he sat gracelessly on the ground. "_Love and respect," _Carmine's voice echoed in his head. Tony closed his eyes and he saw Carmine's face blanch. He saw Carmine's face distort with anger and indignation, defending the honour of a man that had betrayed him, that had killed his sons. Defending Tony.

He was alone now. On the floor, hands still on his face as if it could hold his mind together, he was alone in the silence of the room, muscles shaking and heart wailing. Nobody came, nobody knocked. It was dark and he was alone.

.

.

McGee didn't budge when Sticks asked what the hell was going on. He didn't say anything, just staring at the wall in front of him, his back against the door he wouldn't let anyone pass. Gibbs took care of Sticks, and the other FBI agents weren't interested in the observation room because there wasn't any planned for a while. The "incident" with Achenza had put a stop to it all.

McGee didn't move when he heard the slamming noises coming from the room he was guarding. He flinched when he heard the growl, but he didn't move. He knew what he had to do. He knew he had to protect his SFA. A few weeks earlier, he would have opened the door himself to see what was going on. He would have called Gibbs, asking for orders to follow. But this wasn't happening a few weeks earlier. This was now. And between then and now, Tim had realized things he hadn't begun to understand before. Okay, so maybe it had taken a screw-up and his SFA taking a bullet because of him. Maybe it had taken a damn mafia famiglia threatening to take his best friend away. Maybe it had taken too long, but at least now he understood. The job wasn't always about good guys catching bad guys. It wasn't always black versus white. Hell, McGee had had to deal with so many shades of grey these past few weeks that he was beginning to think there wasn't any other color around.

Tony hadn't gone rogue. But he hadn't been working undercover with any kind of agency either. Tony had not wanted to leave the team, and yet it was hard coming back. Tony was never serious at work, but somehow he always got the job done first. Tony was the laziest guy Tim knew, and yet when McGee had been left in charge of the paperwork, he had nearly drown in it. Tony always laughed at Ziva, but he was the only one she felt could protect her. McGee had discovered so many things in so little time, it was almost too much. And now he knew he was doing the right thing, giving Tony his privacy. Giving him a break. Not letting anyone see him in that observation room.

And yet he felt guilt too.

He knew Tony wouldn't want anyone to barge into the room right now, and he was relieved about it. Tim didn't think he was ready yet. He wasn't ready to see Tony vulnerable. He wasn't ready to see him crying (oh God, Tony crying) or broken, or whatever he was in that damned room. Tim had taken so much time realizing Tony was _actually_ better than him at the job, he wasn't ready to see that even someone like him, carefree and brilliant, could break down.

Everyone always said Gibbs was not human, he was so good, strong and scary all the times. But Tim knew they were wrong, he knew they weren't looking at the right person. Gibbs screwed up. He got obsessed and angry. He was always taking it out on his team, even though one would have to be blind not to see he considered them family. Gibbs didn't know how to compromise. He didn't know how to _not_ take the lead. It was just in his marine blood.

So Tim knew Gibbs had flaws. Real ones, behind the spotless facade.

But Tony? He was different. Tony's facade was so full of small, infuriating defects that superficial people tended to stop there and not dig deeper. Tony was a misogynistic jock too full of himself that whined for nothing. Period. For so long, Tim had thought Tony was all luck and no work. He'd been wrong. The others had seen the skills, the talent and the work, but he had been blind.

.

The door knob turned against Tim's back, and he jumped away to face the opening door.

Tony was passing a hand through his hair as he looked curiously at Tim, at the empty corridor and then back at Tim. His eyes weren't all puffy and red, McGee noticed with relief. He seemed totally fine, except for the tie that stood sideways as if someone had unfastened it in a hurry. Of course, the SFA was now rearranging it, and just like that, he looked exactly like his usual self again. How was that even possible? Tim had heard the furniture being slammed in that room. He had heard the growls, the harsh breathing.

Did Tony manage to get over the... _crisis_ so soon, or was he just that good an actor?

"When are the rest of the interrogations starting?"

"Sticks, Richards and Gibbs are with both directors right now. They'll probably start when they get back," McGee answered, following Tony away without a look behind to _the _room. Probie didn't doubt there would be nothing out of place there.

"Do you know who's next?"

"No one 'important', from what I heard."

Tony snorted and for some reason, it hurt Tim's nerves.

"Thank you, probie."

As the older agent interrupted his steps just to turn, clap Tim's shoulder and smile, the 'probie' couldn't help but think that this was another thing Gibbs didn't do. Thank people. McGee found he quite liked the feeling. He shrugged with a small smile, and Tony nodded.

They were rounding the last corner to Agent Booth's office when Tony's phone vibrated. He answered with a swift motion and a "Yeah, boss?", took the order, and clapped the phone shut.

"Boss says we should go back to the Navy yard, FBI revoked our observation privileges."

It was all said casually, and Tim wondered if his friend was too tired to care anymore.

"Maybe we could stop at the coffee shop on the way," he offered. Tim felt his cheeks go a bit hot when Tony's knowing eyes fell on him and just stayed there for several seconds. Tim just wanted to give his friend a break. Somewhere neutral, a few minutes to stop and relax.

"Good idea, Probie. Let's find Ziva and go."

McGee couldn't help but feel proud of himself when he saw some tension leave his SFA's shoulders and a smile lit his face.

.

.

"You think Gibbs will want something?" McGee asked as he read the names of all the fancy coffees.

"What d'ya think, McGee?" Tony answered in a pretty good impression of their boss.

Tim snorted and Tony turned back to the delicious looking cakes exposed behind a glass. He was wondering if Abby would prefer a muffin or a cupcake when Ziva called his name in _that_ tone. He was alert and ready to shoot whatever threat she had spotted when he realized she was by the shop's window, looking at the NCIS car they had used. Tony squinted, looking for anything suspicious.

"I think I saw him run from the car," Ziva explained, pointing at a young man with dark hair, dark eyes and dark clothes. One look at him was all Tony needed to spring into action.

"Nobody goes near the car!" he ordered as he crossed the room in a few quick strides, pushing away the people queuing for coffee and throwing the door open. He took off running before Tim or Ziva could even ask what the hell was happening.

.

_Bad timing, stronzo, _he thought as he jumped, avoiding the bike a kid'd dropped in a hurry to make room. It shouldn't have but it felt _good_ to push himself. He felt a pain in his back, stirring uncomfortably, but he only pushed harder on his legs, a gun in one hand and the other outstretched to make cars stop as he crossed the street and jumped down a flight of stairs, not caring that he could have broken his neck.

_Bad. Fucking. Timing. _

And maybe it was because he had been brought up running after something and had kept running all his life, but Tony DiNozzo _rarely_ ever lost a race. Maybe he wasn't in the best condition, maybe he should have taken it easy because of his recent surgery and he shouldn't take off after a perp alone anyway, but when his mind was set on something? There was nothing fast enough to keep him from it. Adrenalin was pumping through his veins, making the effort more exhilarating and fueling feelings he'd felt creeping under his skin all day long. It was probably unfortunate for the kid running in front of him that the _anger_ he'd barely been able to comprehend was flaring up in his guts too.

So he caught him. Like he always did. They fell together, propelled by the momentum. If Tony's head hit the ground, he didn't feel it. He wouldn't have cared anyway. The man tried to get back on his feet but Tony had expected the crash and was quicker. When the other one crawled on his knees and almost got up, Tony's hand was slamming just bellow his neck and sending him flying backwards.

.

Tony was breathing hard, hands on his knees, trying to calm his pounding heart. He was in no hurry, the guy in front of him was still choking, hands around his own neck, his face stuck in a panicked expression. He tried to say something, but the words came out as a disgusting gurgle instead.

"Yes, I know how it feels. You think you're breathing but no air is actually coming in. Realize you're probably going to die like that, tongue sticking out, lips blue and begging for help or a bullet. Right?"

Tony walked calmly toward the man whose eyes were now so huge and terrified that he looked even younger than he probably was. Tony sighed, passed a hand through his sweaty hair and sat down on the wet ground.

"Relax you're not going to die. Ice it for two days, and you'll be fine."

Tony waited long enough for the man to start calming down. He could hear the long, wheezy breaths he was trying to take and his face morphed into a mask of relief.

"On the other hand," Tony resumed, his voice now low but detached, "don't answer my questions, and you probably won't. Who sent you?" The man didn't seem to have heard. "Who. Sent. You? Someone with the Achenzas or another family?"

The dark glare he was now receiving at least proved the perp felt rested enough, so Tony got back up and drew closer, hovering over him.

"Give me a name or I swear you'll beg for death by air-deprivation."

Tony's _potentially-dangerous_ mask must have been good, because the guy glanced at him once before coughing up a name : "Mickey." The agent didn't even notice the growl coming from deep inside his chest as he took his handcuffs out and tied what he realized was barely a grown man to the ramp of the nearest emergency stairs, reading him his rights faster than ever.

"A stand-up guy like you wouldn't have lasted long, believe me," he concluded, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he walked away. "And you better pray no one touched the car."

He ran back almost as fast as he'd left, phone at his ear. When McGee picked up he was already rounding the last corner. Two previously absent cars had apparently arrived in emergency, they were parked in the middle of the street and Gibbs was drawing nearer to _the_ car, two officers behind him.

"NO," Tony yelled both in the phone and across the street. He didn't slow down and couldn't avoid tackling down his boss when his hand was a hair from the driver's door. They both ended up on the ground in what felt like an even worse landing than the previous one, and everyone around them ducked instinctively, putting their hands on their ears and protecting their faces.

And nothing. 

Tony opened one eye, then the other one, and his look fell directly into his boss's dark stare.

"Take your time, DiNozzo," Gibbs snapped before Tony realized he was still on him.

"You okay, boss?"

"Did ya think you were back on a football field?"

"No, but we have to place a security perimeter around that car and call the bomb squad right now," the SFA answered in full agent-mode as he extended his hand to pull Gibbs up.

The annoyed looks Gibbs and the few cops in uniform (what were they doing there anyway?) were giving him disappeared as they understood what he said.

"Did that _teenager_ place a bomb on the car?" Tim asked incredulous as he walked a few steps back. Thanks God, Ziva and him had listened and had stood guard around the car, shooing people away.

"Yeah, that _teenager_ works with the bomb specialist of the famiglia, Mickey Bonatto. Big guy with hands made for destruction and the best yo moma jokes there are," he explained with a snort.

"Were is the man you chased?" Ziva asked, turning around the car to take a closer look at her SFA's physical state.

"Cuffed somewhere around there, I couldn't bring him back with me fast enough so I did the next best thing."

"Damn it, DiNozzo. Will every thug in Baltimore try to have your head?"

"Well, we could still try to fake my death, but I'm not sure they'd fall for it twice. You know, fool me once, shame on you, fool me-"

"We get it, Tony," McGee interrupted, and Tony was surprised to look at his probie and find the man standing obviously tenser than seconds earlier, with an angry glint to his eyes.

"Don't worry, Probalicious, smarter people have tried to kill me and failed," he joked. Tim just glared at him and shook his head, walking away to call whomever needed to be called in. Gibbs's head-slap was somewhat of a welcomed distraction. Well, until the boss's eyes fell on his own hand to discover blood. Tony frowned and touched the back of his head, feeling his sticky hair and wincing when he found the source of the blood.

"Aw man, don't tell me I need to go to the hospital _again_!"

Tim wasn't the only one glaring now.

.

.

He didn't end up at the hospital (small mercies), the EMTs that came along with the bomb squad cleared him quickly and Gibbs sent him to the Navy Yard "_before he could find another way to get his ass in trouble"_ that day. One hour and a half of paperwork later, every member of team Gibbs was working at their desks. Tony had to admit he wasn't the most focused as his mind kept going back to the interrogations from earlier and his skull ached painfully. And when Gibbs's phone started ringing, the SFA felt a wave of unexplainable nervousness crash into his chest.

Gibbs grunted twice in all the conversation and slammed his cell phone on the desk without even properly hanging up before he suddenly got up and disappeared up the stairs without giving a clue what had happened. Tim shook his head, resigned, and went to retrieve a new phone from the Gibbs-cupboard where they stashed the various material the team leader tended to break in a week's work. Tony smirked despite the bad feeling he felt nested in his gut.

It was a full half-hour later that the boss came striding in with an obviously concerned Ducky at his heels.

"Bad news, boss?"

"At least it was news for _me, _DiNozzo."

Tony knew he wouldn't like what would be coming next just by the tone of his boss. He also had _that_ look. The one that said both _"when were you planning on telling me how big you screwed up_?" and "_how the hell could you have screwed up that big?"_. 

"Fornell tells me Achenza won't spend a day in jail."

"_What_?" Both Ziva and McGee blurted at once, and Tony guessed he should have said something similar instead of dead silence.

"Turns out he has a _medical condition_. He's either gonna be sent to a _health care facility_ or be sentenced to home detention for a few years." There was something dark and bleak in the way Gibbs said it. Tony knew why.

It wasn't because the boss cared that much about Achenza's sentence, he was sure of it. The tension oozing from Gibbs was directed solely at him. And Tony didn't look away. He didn't try to avoid it or pretend he didn't understand. He deserved every bit of it.

"Wai—wait, Tony, did you _know_ about that?"

When the SFA didn't look away from his boss, even to answer McGee, Ducky made a step forth, as if to place himself between the two of them. "Anthony, his condition is quite recent, isn't it? I don't believe he was sick 9 years ago when you first met him."

"Don't think he was," DiNozzo replied quietly, his eyes still locked on the ex-marine.

"So if he'd been caught at _that_ time, he would have been sentenced to jail," Ducky added, almost carefully.

"I guess he would have, yes."

"But you didn't have evidence nine years ago, _isn't that righ_t?"

Gibbs's voice was almost a whisper. But not a calm, soothing one like he used with Abby sometimes. It was the whisper the man that had just sneaked up on you uttered at your ear before snapping your neck. A deadly omen that traveled the air and alighted on Tony's bones. The confirmation of what he had known would happen from the minute Achenza walked into that bullpen, escorted by those incompetent FBI agents.

"Anthony. What would have happened if Achenza had been sent to jail after your undercover mission with him?" Ducky asked, not waiting for an answer. He was looking from over his glasses and had that serious frown that meant he was treating a particularly difficult case and was trying to reason a solution out of it.

Tony didn't need to think about it much. He knew exactly what would have happened if Achenza had been put behind bars after their first meeting.

"After I killed his sons? He would have given us nothing, Joseph would have retired right away, Emilio would have taken the head of the famiglia and Francesca would've been the _consigliere_. They wouldn't have known how to manage the crisis and some of their guys would have begun to slack off. The Matteras would have gained power, the Orlanduccis would have expanded their influence outside Baltimore and would have left the city to them and to the Pironis. The Mattera boys would have taken their uncle out and would have turned the whole thing into drug and arms dealings. Emilio would probably have been shot dead before the end of the year. Francesca too, just to bring down the last of the Achenzas. The Greeks, Mexicans or Russians would have tried to implement themselves in the old Achenza territory more, and it'd have resulted in endless shootings and a few bad cop TV shows about Charm City."

For the first time, Tony looked away from Gibbs to find Ducky's scrutinizing eyes. "And that's not even mentioning the people that were under the protection of the Achenzas."

The silence that followed must have lasted thirty full seconds before McGee surprised him by asking the logical next question.

"And now, what's going to happen with Achenza and half of the famiglia down?"

This time, Tony took his time before answering. He passed a hand through his hair, feeling the dressings at the back of his head and leaning back in his chair. He was staring at nothing as his voice finally rung in the bullpen, lower and more serious than usual.

"Who knows?"

And he was quiet again.

Suspicion now tainted the very air they breathed in that bullpen, airborne like a viral disease that made everyone _look _at Tony with obvious doubt. He could almost feel Gibbs's blood boiling. He thought back to that day the team leader had driven all the way down to Baltimore just to tell him those three simple and heart-breaking words: _I trust you_, and Tony had to steel himself against the wave of dizziness that shook him to the core. What was done was done. Every step of the way, he had thought about the greater good. That was the only thing that mattered. He was convinced he had done the right thing, in the end.

Hadn't he?

_Not now,_ Tony mentally slapped himself. There would be time for self-doubt. There would be time to wonder what were the _real_ reasons behind his silence, nine years earlier. To ask himself what he would have done if he hadn't been sure Carmine wouldn't spend a day in prison. There would be nightmares, he was sure, just as numerous as there had been after the mission that had started everything, so many lifetimes ago.

But now was not that time. He had to hold strong. _We make choices, and we never regret_. He had known the risks. He had known what would happen when his team discovered everything. He had imagined a life without Abby's trust and comfort, without his partners support, without Gibbs's respect. His heart had bled at the picture it had made in his head but he had made those choices anyway, accepting the risks. Now he was prepared to live with the consequences.

.

"I suppose only time will tell," Ducky finally said. And no one erupted in indignant shouts. Ziva didn't look at him with disgust. Tim didn't avert his gaze. Gibbs's eyes didn't turn spiteful. The world didn't suddenly turn upside down just to make him lose balance and fall off.

"I hope you know what you do," Gibbs said. And Tony was almost sure his heart stopped for a second. It wasn't a threat. It wasn't a hopeful, resigned or desperate wish. It was a hidden _"I **know** you know what you do._" It was more trust than he'd ever received in his whole life. It was the same kind of silent support as when the whole -_crazy_- team had followed him in a suicide mission that ended up saving Ziva in Somalia.

And sure, no one was absolutely thrilled about the news, but they were stronger than that. They took everything in stride and already, the cloud of doubt that had seemed stifling to Tony a few minutes earlier was clearing.

"We should have known he wouldn't be sent to jail anyway, the FBI was ready to do anything for his help. That's how it all started, remember?" Tim said, and Tony's mind was blown by the fact that _Timothy McGee _had just said that. A few months earlier, the probie would have stopped talking and retreated behind his computer to overanalyze everything and decide on what to do, and he certainly would _not_ have been so ready to minimize a potential mistake of Tony's.

For the first time since Tony had arrested Carmine Achenza, he felt a weight ease from his chest.

"Yes, we know he gave a few names when he first asked for a deal with them," Ziva nodded and looked around her desk to find her notes. "Greeks he wanted out of his territory. He was probably protected from a heavy sentence, sick or not."

"He never stopped dealing with the FBI, even after I went back to him. He used the Feds to deal with the Greek mafia that's been trying to implement itself in Baltimore. It wasn't in his territory, by the way, it was in Pironi's, but it's a matter of principle to him," Tony explained.

"Do you know more about their deal?" Gibbs asked, finally walking back to his desk.

"Sure. I know everything about it."

"Of course you do. I want everything on paper, get to it."

Tony nodded and hid the smile that came to him. That was normal. The boss asked for a job to be done, he did it. Easy, effortless. Gibbs was already barking orders to the two others, and the SFA could only nod back at Ducky when the good doctor smiled, satisfied too, and left.

.

The rest of the day was almost normal. In the two hours they worked behind their desks, no one talked about Tony's implication with Achenza. They treated Carmine as just another suspect in another random case, and although Tony knew how wrong it was, it felt good to just pretend he'd never left the team and that day was just another day. Abby had stopped by on her way out with a "See you later, Tony!" that meant she was probably spending the night at his place again. So when Gibbs finally let them go, he knew he wouldn't find himself.

He hoped Abby wouldn't expect much from him though, because the head injury and the emotional waves had left him boneless and he just wanted to eat and sleep for hours. As he opened his door, wondering what he should take for his building headache, he noticed that the light was on in his living room.

"Abbs, I think you burnt whatever you were trying to cook," he said at large with a small smile as he sniffed and crumpled his nose. He threw the keys on the table facing the door and was already unfastening his gun holster when he heard it. A panicked moan. He pictured Abby, mouth taped shut and tied somewhere, before he could actually see her. As he turned toward the noise (in his room), he felt a gun hitting his temple. He was out faster than it took to say _damn._

_._

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><p><em>.<em>

_Coming **really** soon, the concluding part of this chapter and story. _

_A few things were evoked in this chapter (Carmine's interrogation, Tony's reaction to it, an attempt on Tony's life, Carmine not going to jail, the team's reaction...). Don't hesitate telling me what you thought._

_**Thank you, reader.** _


	26. Chapter 26 - It's better to be good

Hey guys. So this is it, my beta just sent me the corrected version of HTF's final piece, and here it is.

But first, let me say something. To every person that took the time to read the 26 chapters of this story, thank you. To those who chose to review and tell me what they thought (good or bad), know that if I could complete this story, it was almost entirely thanks to you. I've been through some hard times that kept me away from writing and **_you_** made me want to come back, again and again.  
>Which, of course, makes this really hard to do.<p>

.  
>.<p>

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><p>.<p>

"Wake up, stronzo," someone said in Italian. His brain was slowly firing up when he started to remember what had happened. His eyes finally shot open, just in time to see a large bucket of water heading his way. He swore when the icy shower hit his face, and again when he finally realized he was tied to a chair. His captors had taken his shirt, shoes and socks off and Tony could see the bad torture movie scenes reenactment coming as clearly as he could see… Lorenzo Anconetti. Sitting just before him, a bitter, cold smirk twitching the right side of his lips.

"What a surprise," Tony said in the most unnaturally neutral tone possible. His face a mask that showed neither discomfort (the back of his head was throbbing) nor the fake detachment that he usually used in such situations.

"If you're wondering why your head hurts, it is because of something called _pistol whipping,_" _Say-your-prayers_ sneered, obviously delighted that he could get his little revenge on what Tony had done to him not so long ago.

"You little piece of shit," he went on, his Italian accent heavier than usual, "you thought you could walk back in our business and family and take them down as if you owned us?"

Tony shook his head slowly, minding the injury he could feel had re-opened at the back of his skull and the headache that had naturally worsened.

"I didn't _think_ that. I actually _did_ it."

He wasn't gloating, wasn't taunting, wasn't smirking, his face was a blank wall.

"I _knew_ you were a traitor. I _knew_ we couldn't trust you!" Anconetti resumed, accepting the long kitchen knife one of his men had just brought. There were three men in the room with them. It looked like they were in a cellar. One of the soldiers was by the door, guarding it, another was just behind Tony and the last one was by Lorenzo's side, apparently in charge of bringing him all the good toys.

"And yet, everyone did," Tony said.

"Not everyone," Lorenzo growled, still calm enough to stay put and just _stare_ at Tony with disgust. "Do you have any idea what you did to this family? Do you know _who_ you messed with? _Who_ you tried to destroy?"

"Yes. Amateurs. Because, really, who the fuck trusts a federal agent that has already screwed you over once? You _and _your family let yourselves be guided by arrogance."

"_I never-"_

"You never bought my act? So why didn't you do anything? You thought you could see it coming if I planned anything against you. You thought I was _under control_, because you had me followed by your men and you thought I didn't even know. Arrogant, condescending, _fool_. You are more responsible for the Achenzas' failure than anyone else. "

Anconetti didn't say anything for the longest time, and then shook his head. Tony had worked with the man enough (when he first infiltrated the Famiglia) to _know_ Lorenzo had a _lot_ of patience when he was the one in charge. When he had his target tied to a chair (a wall, a tree, a bed, a car…), he liked to take things slow. As long as he was in a position of power, he was nearly impossible to rattle.

"You think I'm stupid? You think I didn't _see_ you and Francesca? Or how you were with _my_ wife and _my_ kids?" Lorenzo paused and looked down at his hands, holding the knife and playing with it expertly. "It wasn't _just_ a mission to you. You cared for this family, didn't you?" he snorted and shook his head again. "How do you think your feds friends would like that?"

"What, are you threatening to tell on me?" DiNozzo let himself show irony for the first time.

Lorenzo smirked and looked back up. "You know I have big plans for you today. I've been waiting to have you strapped like that for a _long_ time."

"Then who cares what they think. You want to kill me."

.

Tony was trying _really _hard not to think of Abby, but it was the only thing on his mind. He almost didn't care that he was indeed about to be tortured and probably killed by a man that hated his guts. A man that had lost his son, his wife, and now his whole Famiglia and was probably blaming it all on Tony.

He couldn't say her name though. If they still had her, they'd bring her and torture her in front of him sooner or later. He'd rather it was later. Gibbs was coming. Yes. He _knew_ Gibbs, Tim and Ziva were coming.

Lorenzo got up and walked to him almost lazily, the knife catching the light and sending a reflection in his eyes for a brief second. Tony almost chuckled. He'd had so many nightmares about this when he was still working close to Lorenzo! What had happened, in almost ten years, to make him so unafraid now that it was finally happening? He used to wake up in the middle of the night, his sheets clinging to his sweaty skin, his heart running, his stomach clenched in panic.

And now there was nothing but Abby's name in his head. Abby's face. Abby's panicked moan just before he'd been pistol-whipped into unconsciousness. He refused to think about what they could have done to her in his apartment, but he still had hope they'd just left her there. Why go through all the trouble of carrying her (she would have fought them like a lioness) and driving her wherever the hell they were. Right?

Right?

The first punch he received to the face called him back to reality.

"You shouldn't have come back. You should have stayed dead," Lorenzo said in Italian as he clenched and unclenched the fist he had just used.

"What do you think would have happened if I hadn't come back?"

"Half of the famiglia wouldn't be in _jail_!" Anconetti said as he hit again, exactly in the same spot.

That man could pack a punch. Tony couldn't see or think straight for several seconds. His head was now _killing_ him and he was almost sure his nose was bleeding profusely.

"No, but half of it would have left anyway, wouldn't it?" he finally said when he managed to find his balance back.

"Yeah? And why's that?"

"Think about it, Lorenzo. You've been around a long time, you know how it works. Carmine is sick; you've known that for a long time, haven't you? You knew he would've needed to be replaced. Just _think_ about the consequences of _Emilio_ becoming Father."

Tony wasn't surprised to see Lorenzo actually take a moment to think about it.

"Emilio doesn't have what it takes. He would have been worse than Don Mattera. Boneless, easy to manipulate, he'd have been eaten alive. And you know what's worse than being stopped by a fed, don't you?"

Lorenzo squatted just in front of him and took a hold of Tony's jaw. DiNozzo didn't flinch, staring right into the eyes of _Say-your-prayers_. He went on, undisturbed, confident in the truth of his words.

"The Achenza name would have lost its power. The Matteras, the Orlanduccis, even the damn Greeks would have taken over."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe Emilio wasn't cut out for the job. But we will never find out, will we? We could have found another way. Another Don. You arrogant _stronzo_," Lorenzo grabbed Tony by the hair and pulled it back. "This famiglia is older than you and has always managed to survive and be respected. Did you think you were irreplaceable?"

"No, I wasn't, but Carmine Achenza was. And open your eyes, Lorenzo. Now the Matteras are gone. Turner will talk and take down lots of people with him just to make a deal. The first ones on his list will probably be in the ranks of Orlanducci, because he was his biggest associate."

Tony tried to ignore the cold feel of a razor like knife against his throat. Lorenzo wouldn't slice it open. It would be too quick. He thought of McGee's earlier question, when he had asked what would probably happen now, and Tony had said he didn't know. He had lied. He could guess a lot from experience and history alone, and every thought of his had been dictated by this, so he didn't stop.

"And this is good. You know it is, because Orlanducci would have been dangerous, gaining that much power with two of the biggest families gone. Pironi is the weakest under pressure, but he's a good man. He'll take care of the people left with no protection. And the families that were dependent on Achenza? They will have everything they need now that they have that legit company to shelter them. Milo Reilly is a good guy too, and a businessman. He knows what to do with what he has."

Lorenzo pulled harder on his hair and Tony winced, the back of his head had hit the back of the chair right on his injury and for a moment there were little stars dancing behind his closed lids. 

"So you did us a favor, didn't you?"_ Say-your-prayers_ asked, his tone low and his irony dangerous.

"Carmine Achenza won't go anywhere. He'll never see jail," Tony resumed again, though he was now unable to open his eyes because of the throbbing, piercing pain in his head. And his voice was definitely weaker than he'd have liked.

"He'll be nearby, still influential enough to keep everyone calm and prevent a retribution and territory war." 

"Listen to yourself. Sounds like you thought of everything, huh? Almost like you did it for us and not because you're a fucking Fed!" Anconetti got up suddenly and sent the chair flying backwards in the same dash.

Tony had to bite his lips to keep from actually yelling when he felt the wood of the chair digging right into the spot where he'd been shot a few weeks back.

"And always so calm and logical, aren't you? So confident, you ungrateful bastard, never even doubting yourself, huh?" 

Lorenzo was interrupted by the sound of a cell phone, behind the closed door. A man knocked and entered the cellar, glancing at Tony as if everything was totally normal and extending the phone to Anconetti.

"Can't you see I'm busy?" Lorenzo asked the man in Italian.

"But boss, it's your wife," the guy answered the same way.

Lorenzo obviously didn't expect that, and Tony snorted (painfully).

"Tell Cici I say hi," he managed to say from the ground.

Lorenzo's face became a violent shade of purple in a second, and, as he took the phone forcefully and hid the mic with his hand, he motioned to Tony with his head and ordered the four men in the room: "Bring his friend around."

.

_No._ Tony had to fight the panic out of his features. He couldn't let Lorenzo know how much he was scared for Abby. Of course they had her. Of course she wasn't safe at his apartment. He had to think. Damn it, he had to find a way out of this. His head was killing him, and for a reason he couldn't understand the memory of Carmine bending to kiss his temple as he called him Don Achenza for the last time kept coming back to him. Damn it all. He couldn't afford being that seriously concussed. He couldn't.

Anconetti had smirked mirthlessly and gotten out of the room to talk on the phone. Mere minutes after that, two of the men that had accompanied their boss out came back, dragging a fighting woman with them. They had put a bag on Abby's head, and Tony couldn't keep the flashes of Ziva in such similar posture in Somalia from popping in his tired and hurting mind. He tried to shake his head and open his eyes widely, but it only made him more nauseous.

That's when he heard her _**cry**_.

The sound was muffled because of the bag on her head and the ringing in his ears, but he couldn't miss it. His Abby was sobbing even though her legs kicked and her tied hands tried to scratch and grab whatever was around. A lioness, Tony confirmed just as his attention focused again. His heart was beating faster but the pain that had been radiating from his upper body seemed to recede.

They had made a serious mistake.

.

His head was slowly clearing, although for some reason the face of Francesca, as she told him she hid a gun in her car, was hovering in his mind. The fear, just like a wave that had come crashing into him, was now receding too, and something bigger and stronger replaced it.

He grinded his teeth and forced the pain away. He thought of Cesca, of what he had felt when she told him she would soon become _consigliere_, and the anger grew insistent. He thought of Alceo and it grew steadier. He thought of Julian, smiling enthusiastically and running to him when they met again, and he started wishing Anconetti was back already. He remembered the blood surrounding Enzo's bullet-pierced body, and he was ready.

When Lorenzo entered the room and his eyes fell on Abby's now lying body with a satisfied smirk, Tony felt adrenalin shoot through his body.

The man that had been standing guard behind him when he woke up was near the door too now, and Tony had to twist his neck to follow Lorenzo's movements as the he drew closer to Abby. From where he was lying on the now broken chair, hands still tied on his back, he watched as Lorenzo bent and grabbed her by the chain around her hands. His best friend was apparently aware that this was serious, because she had grown suddenly silent, and she crawled with difficulty so that her head wouldn't hit the floor as she was being dragged.

"You shouldn't have come back," Lorenzo said, looking directly into Tony's eyes. The smile had disappeared, his face almost solemn as he snatched the bag out of Abby's head in a swift motion and threw it on Tony's chest. Abby's eyes automatically found him after she blinked confusedly several times, and she gasped but didn't address him.

He wasn't looking at her, his eyes were locked on the man with the knife in a hand and his best friend in the other.

"Do you know _why_ I did?" Tony said in the same voice. There was no fear, no begging in his tone. It rung low but clear, like an omen in the stale room. He felt blood on his forehead, nose and mouth, but his eyes were wide open and looking straight at Lorenzo. "Do you know why I came back?"

Lorenzo probably had an answer, but even he felt the tension in the air. There were no masks anymore, no games to play. Tony glanced at the last remnants of the chair underneath him, the wood had given up easily when he had been thrown to the ground, and the last two legs hanging were easily broken with a kick on its legs. Straightening up, Tony was now sitting on the wooden debris. He took the time to look at Abby, who was still on her knees by Lorenzo's side. She was looking at him with wide, shocked eyes that he couldn't understand, but she didn't seem hurt.

"You shouldn't have brought her," Tony said, still taking his time. He wringed his body a bit, feeling the ties restraining him, and sighed. Slowly, knowing Lorenzo wouldn't stop him, he slid his hands under his legs, as if he was used to doing such contortions, and brought them in front of him. Anconetti didn't seem to care, but one of his men drew closer, now standing just by Tony's legs.

There were only two henchmen with Lorenzo now, but Tony wasn't happy about it. He could hear dogs barking outside, and he knew exactly what was getting ready for when Anconetti was done with him. It was just how they treated traitors. They chained them by the legs to the back of a car and drove in large circles for a while, dragging their half naked victims on the burning asphalt at high speed before they finally unleashed famished dogs trained to kill.

But that wouldn't happen to him.

"You can shut the dogs up, Lorenzo, they won't be running around today."

"Acting like you're in control doesn't mean you are, _stronzo_. Now if you want to say goodbye to your friend, or maybe apologize to her, it's time."

Abby didn't react to the threat, or at least she didn't make a sound. Tony wasn't looking at her but he was more aware than he even thought possible.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about how the Feds work. Like how everything you own is bugged and even Ciara's calls are wiretapped."

Lorenzo snorted confidently, but the man just in front of Tony started fidgeting, looking back at his boss and partner with a frown on his face.

"We know enough about the FBI—"

"And there are a lot of things you don't know about how _my_ team works," Tony interrupted, stretching his neck and arms carefully. "Like how I have those two colleagues crushing on each other and how they call each other every night. Or how poor Timmy is so tense lately that he'll probably freak when Abbs doesn't answer."

"We already know you team is aware you're missing," _Say-your-prayers_ informed calmly, unfazed by DiNozzo's words. Tony knew Lorenzo must have taken special precautions to be so confident.

"Or how," the NCIS agent went on as if uninterrupted, "Abby is under the protection of my team, and how _my team_," –he insisted on the words- "takes it really seriously."

"As usual, you talk a lot, DiNozzo, but what are you going to _do?_" Lorenzo asked, his voice low, his words creeping into his target's skin to leave an icy trace on its way to his chest. Tony's face grew cold, his lips twitched in a second's sneer, and his voice, when it came, was so matter-of-factly commanding that his words, like a presage, couldn't be doubted.

"**I'll eat the heart out of you.**"

.

And in a second, everything was moving. Tony locked his hold on the piece of wood he had been feeling under his hands for a few seconds, and suddenly he was stabbing Lorenzo's thigh with it. The man yelled out in surprise and bent in two, and before either guard could take their guns, Tony had jumped up and passed his tied arms around Lorenzo throat. Bringing his hands together, the chain tightened on the man's throat and he fell on his knees, Tony bending forward to follow the fall. Abby, who had gasped and moved back not to be hit in the flurry of movements, jumped on the knife that Lorenzo had let go of and then back again to stay behind her best friend and his new hostage.

"Let's back away, Abbs," Tony said in a detached but controlled voice. He moved backwards, dragging Lorenzo's weight with him as the older man struggled to move in sync so he wouldn't choke. They only stopped when they found a wall to protect their backs.

"Now now, what should we do?" He asked again, tightening his grasp on Lorenzo but looking straight at the closer henchman. Everything had happened so quick that by the time they were ready to shoot, their boss's body was protecting the target. Now both soldiers were looking between Tony and Lorenzo, guns aimed in their general direction.

"Drop—drop'em," Lorenzo managed to gasp, and his men obeyed. The door was suddenly slammed open and the two other guys who had been there arrived, yielding their guns as if it was a bad cop movie. They stopped short when they took in the scene.

"Drop the guns," Tony said calmly. "You didn't let me finish, Lorenzo," he added after the two new comers had obeyed his orders.

.

.

Abby watched in morbid fascination, holding onto the knife she had found and praying she wouldn't need to remember Ziva's training. Tony had that voice again. The one she had only ever heard him use since Achenza came back into his life. It was calm and strong, which was often how her Tony acted when in terrible situations. But that wasn't all. It came with a stance, a look. It was the authority that exuded from him.

She had almost forgotten to be scared, when that man took the bag off her head and she finally saw her best friend, a thick layer of blood covering half his face. She saw his eyes and there was something in there that could almost not be Tony's. For a second, she was sure she had seen white wild anger cross his features, but then he was so controlled she doubted it was possible. And then he talked, and even though he wasn't saying that at all, Abby couldn't but think _Oh my God, Tony's gonna kill them. _

Where was Tim? Where was Gibbs? She knew they could trace her there. Tony was right, they were so protective of her they had made sure she could never be taken off the grid unwillingly. Her belt might not have a knife hidden in it, but the tracker she had placed there herself was just as useful in such situations. Tony knew it, and he had almost told their captors himself: they should not have taken her.

"You don't know how _I _work, _Say-your-prayers_," Tony whispered at the man's ear, squatting so he could keep his hold on Lorenzo easily without killing him involuntarily. "You asked the wrong questions, earlier. You should have asked **_why_ I came back.**"

He then motioned to the four men watching carefully from where they were spread in the room, and then to a corner. They all walked there, the farthest possible from Tony and her.

"Abbs, get us some guns," he said after he was satisfied with the distance between the men and the closest guns, still on the floor.

Abby ignored the fear that made her heart beat faster and ran to the guns, bringing two with her. Tony placed a foot on Lorenzo's wounded thigh to make sure he wouldn't move, and when the man gasped and bent over in pain, the Agent retracted his arms swiftly, taking a gun and walking a few steps away from Anconetti so he could face him, his gun now pointed at him.

Lorenzo's hands went to his neck, now an angry red, and he gulped the air as if he thought he could never do so again. Abby couldn't help but step back as he finally looked up at Tony and her, and his expression was pure rage. Tony's arm was steady and he didn't seem to care.

"Why did you come back?" Lorenzo wheezed. He didn't sound curious. He sounded like he was concluding something that Abby didn't understand.

"You told me that you saw I cared?" Tony asked, his voice sinister. "You don't even _begin_ to understand. You could have started a full-out war between families, you could have raised an empire or burnt the Famiglia to the ground, and I wouldn't have batted an eye."

Something made Abby want to look at him in the eyes as he talked, and so she moved by his side, not realizing her mouth was ajar and forgetting she now held a gun and a knife in her chained hands. She could almost see the air shifting around him. She felt something hot and furious, and he could have burst into flames there and then, she would have barely been surprised. She stared, and listened, and she knew **that was it**. The answer.

"But putting Francesca on the line as a _consigliere_?" he paused again, just a second, as if to reflect on the idea. And then his voice rose, strong and haunted. "Risking Alceo to soldier for an incompetent leader? _Abandoning_ Julian, Enzo and the others under no protection?" Tony paused and shook his head softly.

Abby held her breath when a small smile crept up his face and his lips twitched in the exact same way she had seen Carmine Achenza's do in interrogation.

"I **protect** my people, Lorenzo. You could **burn** my soul, and I would still **raise** and protect them."

Then he walked forth, and Anconetti stumbled back involuntarily.

"You shouldn't have brought her here," Tony repeated, and raising his armed hand, he struck the man's face with enough strength to send him back, unconscious.

The guards made a go for their guns, but Tony –and Abby, though uncertain of what exactly she was doing- aimed at them.

"Stop it right there. And don't be impatient, our friends won't be long," he ordered.

Tony squatted and patted Lorenzo's limp body, finding a knife he took and threw away, and a phone he passed to Abby silently. She quickly called, warmth spreading a bit into her chest when she heard Gibbs's voice pick up.

"We're okay," she said first. "Are you coming?"

"5 out," Gibbs said, and somehow she knew he was relieved out of his mind.

"Tony protected me," she added, to make sure he understood they hadn't touched her, and hoping her best friend would hear her and relax some more.

"He'd better," bossman said, and she smiled into the phone.

.

When she hung up, Abby started to work on her chain. With a knife and no one threatening her, she managed to free one hand, than the other, before she took the gun again and offered to help Tony do the same. He shook his head but didn't acknowledge more of her. He hadn't moved, his eyes locked on the four men cowering in a corner, but she felt a new tension rolling from him now. A tension that hadn't been there earlier, when he seemed in control of the universe.

His jaw hard and his frown deeply anchored in his face, she wanted to touch him, to reassure him, she wanted to clean his face because now she realized he looked so un-Tony like it was scary. But she didn't dare do any of those things. So she slid between him and the wall, where she knew he'd think her safe, and sat_. Hurry Gibbs. Hurry_.

.

.

Tony realized back up had arrived only when he nearly shot Gibbs in the head. He was so tense that he hadn't heard the sirens and the sounds from outside. His head was killing him and there was an annoying buzzing sound somewhere near his left ear that he knew only came from the punches. Adrenalin had washed out a long time ago, and he knew perfectly well he was running on fumes. His muscles were trembling, though he tried to hide it, and the only thing he was forcing himself on being aware of were the people inside that room. He knew he should have gotten out and surveyed the perimeter. Tied the perps. Made sure they didn't have anything dangerous on them. But he couldn't. He was weak and his body wouldn't work anymore, so he made sure he didn't move.

Then the door opened, Tony's arm pivoted on instinct and he nearly pulled the trigger.

"DiNozzo! For God's sake," Gibbs added quietly as he found the bloodied face of his agent.

His arm shook even more for the few seconds he wondered if he was hallucinating, but then he finally lowered it and allowed everything he'd kept at bay to finally crash into him. He stumbled back, and flinched when someone touched his shoulder to help him. Abby. Abby was here and safe. He closed his eyes and Carmine nodded his approval. Tony wondered why his brain had **decided** to hurt him.

"It's okay Tony. You did it. We're safe," Abby suddenly said. She had a strange look on her face, and she stared at him as if willing him to really _understand_ something. He tried to focus, pushing away Carmine, the pain, and the anger that still shook his body. "We are _all_ safe. You did it."

Who did she mean? Did she think of Cesca? Did she consider the families that depended on Carmine and him? Did she talk of the team? Did she have any idea _who_ he had to protect?

"I need to sit," he heard himself say in reply.

He hadn't even noticed the EMTs already crowding the place.

.

.

When he woke up at the hospital, he had to focus extra hard to barely open his eyes instead of immediately going back to sleep. He felt like he had slept two weeks, and he didn't like it. It was dark but for a small lamp by his bed.

"You really up this time?" a grumpy voice asked, not without warmth.

"Why is my face burning?" he answered, still fighting against the pull of sleep.

"It's been used as a punching ball."

"Oh yeah, tha' right."

Gibbs snorted and Tony smiled (or at least he thought he did, but it may have looked like a grimace).

"We have to talk," the boss said quietly.

Tony made an effort to turn his head to where the team leader was and made a face.

"Not fair boss, you know I can't hold my tongue when I'm on meds!"

"Can you _ever_?"

"Ha-ha, I knew you were a funny man, behind that whole—"

"Shut up, DiNozzo."

Tony smiled, relaxing in his bed though he hadn't realized he was tense.

"Thanks, boss."

There was a long pause then, but it was comfortable, natural, and Tony was nodding off when Gibbs's voice brought him back.

"I'm damn glad you're not dead, DiNozzo. I'd have had to kill you myself."

It was said all quietly, but it echoed in Tony as loud and clear as if he'd been yelling it.

"You wouldn't kill me, boss. You'd probably kill _for_ me though," he mumbled, realizing everything was a bit jumbled up together in his drugged mind and he was probably not even expressing himself with words. The effort was tiring, but he didn't want to lose grasp on reality just then. He liked that conversation. "I'm almost sure you'd hide a body for me too."

"I'd kick your ass first."

"You didn't say no! Awww, boss, this is so sweet!"

He couldn't see it, but Tony was pretty sure his boss had rolled his eyes. He was almost shocked out of the beginning of a drug-induced dream by a low chuckle. He forced his eyes open just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating, but he found Gibbs, his boss and _friend_, a coffee in hand and laughing.

"You're out of it. Go back to sleep."

"t'okay boss. You don't need to say it," he mumbled, feeling the smile on his own face and not caring about how his bones hurt. "I know now."

"You know?"

"I know," Tony nodded his head, but then regretted it immediately.

"Better late than never then."

Tony wanted to laugh too now. He wanted to tell his boss that he'd known for a long time. Of course he had. How could you not see how much Gibbs cared for him? He was part of the team, after all. But now he knew it was even more than that. Of course Gibbs didn't consider him his son or anything, but who cared? Tony didn't need a father. He was glad to have a loyal and strong friend in Gibbs though. A partner he knew saw him as an equal, respected and _trusted_ him _no matter what_. He knew now. He could probably never doubt it again.

.

.

Tony was smiling when Tim helped him out of the car and into Gibbs's house. It felt right to be there. He knew he was still too sore and weak to stay at his own place alone, so he had asked McGee to drive him the only other place in the world that made sense. It felt normal. The smell of the house, as weird as it sounded, always helped him relax.

Gibbs's house was the place where he got better. Every time he had to make a trip to the hospital, he ended up here until he got better. Even when he didn't really need it, he knew it kept Gibbs from worrying, and it was enough of a reason for him.

So he was smiling when he arrived and found his stuff already there. The guest room wasn't really the guest room anymore. It was Tony's. And when a real guest stopped by, Gibbs always gave them his own room (it wasn't like he used it much anyway).

Jackson was in the kitchen making himself something to eat when the two agents arrived.

"The doc said you wouldn't be allowed out before a day or two," he greeted.

Tim rolled his eyes and shot a dark look at Tony.

"He clearly didn't know how stubborn Tony was," Tim grumbled unhappily.

"Oh come on, Probie, what would 24 hours change? I've been feeling fine for days."

"Yeah, that's why you can come and go by yourself, right?"

"That's low, McWorry-wart. Now help me to the room, Gibbs swore that if he found me out of my bed when he arrived, he'd make me wear my ass as a hat."

Jack turned back to his cooking, chuckling as he heard Tony go on in the stairs ("Now I don't know how that could be physically possible, but you know I have a high sense of fashion and I do _not_ think that ass-hats are _a la mode_ this season.").

.

Much later, after the two Gibbses had come by to bid him goodnight and had left him alone, Tony lay there, staring at the ceiling. He had made a deal with himself, two days earlier: he wouldn't think about the Achenza case or anything related to it as long as he'd stay at his boss's place. Truth was, he wasn't sure how much more he could take.

The first day he'd woken up at the hospital after the Lorenzo debacle, he had realized how washed-up he felt. Not just physically, but mentally too. He sincerely didn't think he could deal with much more Achenza business without something breaking in his mind.

But his brain didn't seem to agree with that deal, because it had kept sending him flashes of Carmine Achenza. Memories of their discussions. They replayed behind his closed lids and he felt like he was watching a black and white movie, alone in a grand theatre that made him feel small and deserted. He saw Carmine give him his trust. He saw the respect in his eyes. He saw the older man lean down to kiss his temple, and it was like an out of body experience that wouldn't stop before he felt something burning in his chest.

And then Alceo called him.

Alceo's call had been perfectly timed with the arrival of Leroy Jethro Gibbs in his hospital room, that very first morning. A phone had rung that wasn't his professional one, and Abby, who had been there for a full hour, had had to look in his leather bag to find the ringing phone among his clothes and hair gel bottles. She'd given the phone to him with a solemn face and then gone to Gibbs, who was staring burning holes at his bed-ridden agent.

"_You did something_," Alceo said in Italian as soon as he'd answered. He resented needing to talk to him, as much was clear in his tone.

Tony sighed and passed a hand on his forehead. So much for wanting to take a break. He snorted to himself. This wasn't a case. This hadn't been just another job. This was hard, concrete, real life. You didn't take breaks from that one.

"_You shouldn't be heard talking to me_," Tony answered in Italian. It made Gibbs tense, Tony felt without even looking at his boss.

Almost involuntarily, Tony's head swam with different scenarios trying to weight the consequences of Alceo's call if the feds knew of it. He didn't want to think about it, but he had gotten used to try and foresee the chain reactions of every possible decision he took, lately. It was how he survived so well in undercover ops. But now it hurt his brain, and he wished he could just stop thinking for a few days.

"_You did something. The feds don't have everything on me. That's why you wanted the list of what I did and the people who knew about it, isn't it_?"

"I thought you'd call sooner," Tony admitted, thoughtful for a second, before giving Alceo what he wanted. He would dwell on the loss of his brother another time. "If they show you evidence, admit to what they have. If they don't, shut your mouth."

He could hardly be clearer without giving out names and dates. He had included a few of Alceo's associates to the visits he had made before the big showdown. Thanks to Elena's information, the people he had seen would never dare talk for fear of seeing their secrets outed. The FBI still had a lot on Alceo, but they didn't have "the _really_ bad stuff," as he used to call it. Or at least they didn't have evidence.

Alceo had done bad things. Things that should not be forgivable. And yet Tony couldn't send him to rot in jail for the rest of his life. He had never hurt anyone _innocent_, DiNozzo kept reminding himself. But that excuse was not good enough, Tony knew, and his protecting Alceo made _him_ something he didn't want to name. He didn't want to think about it. He'd probably have to write Vance a resignation if he did. And he couldn't do that.

Tony had realized he was too weak to give up his team voluntarily. He would hold on until he was physically forced to let go. His conscience would shut up eventually. Right?

"_Don't expect a thank you note, you still betrayed us," _Alceo ended up saying after a long pause.

Tony closed his eyes. Alceo would probably be out in a few years if he was lucky enough, but it was still years Tony had taken him away from his wife and infant kid.

"_I won't_."

.

And though Tony was sure it had been _the last _straw, nothing in him broke as expected. Maybe it had been broken for a long time, or maybe he had underestimated himself.

_Now sleep_, he ordered himself. _Sleep_.

_Knock – Knock – Knock  
><em>

He almost jumped in surprise, his hand crashed into the table next to his bed to get his gun. He had forgotten he was not at his place.

"It's not there," Gibbs said when he opened the door. "I took your gun earlier,' he reminded.

Tony couldn't think of anything to say, his heart was out of control, beating so fast and hard it seemed to echo in his ears. Why was he so jumpy? For God's sake, attackers would not _knock_. And then he realized what Gibbs was doing.

"Is that my DVD player?"

"Yeah, I figured what to bring but I have no idea how to make it work, so that's on you."

"You… want to watch a movie? Right now?"

"D'you have anything else to do? Were you sleeping like you should?"

"Not exactly, no."

"Have a better idea of how to make your brain shut up?" Gibbs asked matter-of-factly after he put the machine on Tony's lap.

The younger agent looked at it and shook his head slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"You're always the best at shutting me up, boss."

"Damn right I am. Now make this thing work."

.

Gibbs let his agent handle the DVD player as he dragged the only cushioned chair there was in the room closer to the bed. Tony put the player between the two of them and leant back on the wall. Already, a movie was starting on the small screen.

"Figure you'd choose a Steve McQueen movie, boss," Tony grumbled contentedly. Gibbs didn't say he had grabbed the first one he'd seen amongst all the stuff McGee had brought earlier.

They were halfway through the Thomas Crown Affair when Gibbs noticed Tony's eyes were more often closed than watching the movie. He made a movement to put away the DVD player but his agent stopped his hands. The boss looked up only to find Tony's eyes looking straight into his.

"Thank you, boss. You know, for dealing with my crap."

Tony knew Gibbs could just nod, tell him to sleep, and leave, and that it would be okay. But for once, he really hoped for words. He didn't know why, exactly. Maybe he was just so tired that he wanted things to be said loud and clear so he wouldn't have to make any efforts. Maybe he wanted to be totally honest himself because he knew his boss deserved it, and he needed help getting the words out. As usual, Gibbs knew what his agent needed better than he did.

"You dealt with mine plenty of times, DiNozzo. Not doing anything you wouldn't do for me."

"Damn right," Tony said with a smile. Now that he thought about it, he was probably still pretty drugged up. Gibbs raised an eyebrow, and Tony knew he was thinking the same thing. "Don't worry, I'm conscious enough to know what I'm saying, and to remember it in the morning." 

"Unlike when you called my father after your surgery," Gibbs said as he went back to sit on the chair. Tony extended his hands and closed the DVD player without looking at it.

"He told you about that, huh?"

Gibbs stayed silent for a few seconds before he seemed to make a decision and locked his eyes with Tony's.

"I heard pretty much everything you told him on that roof." 

Tony didn't even need a moment to take that admission in. "Of course you did," he snorted instead, shaking his head.

"You said some pretty heavy stuff, Tony," Gibbs went on, his voice low and soft as it always was when he was talking about serious and delicate matters.

"I'm a pretty deep man, Gibbs. Okay, okay, don't roll your eyes, I can sincerely say I don't remember much of it anyway."

"You talked about moving on."

"Well, look at me boss, obviously I've not gone anywhere."

Gibbs rolled his eyes again and Tony chuckled.

"You know I know about the job offers, DiNozzo!"

"Yeah, and thank you for babbling to Abby!" 

Gibbs didn't apologize and Tony sighed, leaning his head against the cold wall and looking out the window.

"Do you know about the latest one?"

"Senior Field Agent in –"

"No," Tony interrupted. "I'm not even sure Vance is still offering, what with the mess I'm in right now."

"What's the job?" Gibbs interrupted, straight to the point.

Tony turned to look at him as he answered. "Team leader of a Major Crime Response Team."

Gibbs's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I know, right?" Tony laughed at his boss's silent reaction.

"Where?"

The SFA's smile disappeared in a second as he stared hard at his boss.

"Quantico."

"NCIS Headquarter, Quantico?"

Tony nodded, not even close to smiling now. Quantico was the center of operations for the entire spectrum of the NCIS mission. It oversaw all of the field offices and their subordinate components. This was one of the best (if not _the_ best) positions Tony could hope to have in NCIS while still working in the field as a special agent. And seeing Gibbs's reaction, his boss was _not_ aware of this job offer. After a while in complete silence, Tony's eyes automatically went back to the window. What kind of reaction had he expected, really? He hadn't known what to say himself, when Vance had thrown the file his way.

He had barely turned his head when a hand on his jaw made him look back again. Gibbs was leaning forward; his closeness seemed to make his message penetrate even more clearly than it would have otherwise:

"**You deserve it**."

Tony just stared.

.

"Damn, you deserved it years ago. After that mission in Somalia? I thought the CIA and FBI would fight over who'd hire you first, I don't understand how it didn't happen."

Tony smirked and Gibbs squinted his eyes.

"They _did_ try!" the older man realized. "DiNozzo, were you _ever_ gonna tell me?"

"Tell you what, that the CIA tried to recruit me? It was a terrible attempt, and I have bad history with a few CIA agents. Anyway, that's a whole other story."

"All the books that McGee could write with those stories of yours," Gibbs snorted, and Tony chuckled.

"But seriously, you _know_ that's the best offer there is, don't you? And once it's filled, it's gone for years."

"You think I should take it?" DiNozzo asked, all humor gone.

"You have to think about your career. Don't you want to lead? When was the last time you learnt anything here?"

Never, in his wildest dream, could Tony have predicted such a conversation. Gibbs was not a big talker. He could say a lot, but usually through a meaningful gesture or look, not through words. Yet, Tony couldn't say he was surprised. He'd always known his boss was there for him if he ever needed to talk things through. Maybe Gibbs realized his agent needed to hear those things at least once, coming from him, so he could really make a decision.

"I know I should climb the ladder, boss, but you know me, I don't _really_ care about the titles. Sure, I want to lead someday, and I'm pretty sure I _can_ too, but … I don't know, boss. Not sure I want to lead a team if it's not the one I have now, you know? Not sure I could think straight, knowing Probie, Ziva and you are working cases without me, somewhere. I guess I'm just weak like that," he concluded, shrugging.

Gibbs made the movement to head slap his agent only to stop himself when he remembered the head injury Tony was still recovering from. His SFA looked at his half raised hand and smirked, tilting his head in curiosity.

"DiNozzo. You are a _lot_ of things. But _**weak**_ is not one of them. Now let me tell you, if you're waiting around for the day you can take _my_ place –" Gibbs started menacingly.

Tony saw where his boss was going with that and interrupted him, a twinkle in his eyes.

"What? Your place! I wouldn't dare! But you _do_ make a valid point. You're not growing any younger boss, and you're going to need someone strong enough to push your wheelchair around when you need to chase perps in a few years."

"Do you want to end up on the mat before you've even recovered, DiNozzo? " Gibbs threatened, hiding a small smile Tony could read in his eyes anyway.

Taking a look at his watch, Gibbs frowned and got up.

"Sleep now, or Duck will have both our asses tomorrow."

"Wait, boss. Were you ever offered Quantico?" Tony asked when Gibbs was already opening the door to leave.

It was a legitimate question, really. Gibbs had been NCIS's best agent for so long, he'd have had to piss someone pretty important never to be offered a position at headquarters.

"I was, yeah."

"Why didn't you take it?"

Gibbs stood there, looking at his agent for a few seconds before answering.

"I already had the team I wanted."

Tony's half smile told him he understood.

"I'm glad you didn't leave."

"The feeling's mutual."

And he closed the door.

.

Sleep came more easily than it had for several days. And he almost didn't feel the hollowness of a bed without _her_. Almost.

.

.

"Boss, I have to go back to work."

Gibbs just stared, and Jack took his reading glasses off as he folded the newspaper to follow the discussion. They were having breakfast, Jack was a morning guy and Tony had spent the night waking up at odd hours, so they were both up when Gibbs got ready to leave for work.

"Don't look at me like that, Gibbs. You know I'm gonna drive both your dad _and_ myself crazy if I don't have something to occupy myself."

"You can barely walk, DiNozzo," Jethro said, and his father nodded heartily.

"So I'll sit."

They stared at each other for a few more seconds, and Tony knew his boss couldn't ignore what was going on in his head. Asking him to stay home all day was tantamount to asking him to dwell on the whole Achenza case for hours. He was already edgy, he didn't want to know what a day of self-doubting every decision he made, wondering what IA had on him, imagining Carmine in a cell, and thinking of Cesca alone in Europe, would do to his nerves.

"A day or two, and you may come back on desk duty. Look at you, DiNozzo, you'd fall on your ass trying to get to the car. I can't let you come back."

Tony's jaw clenched as he kept his eyes locked on his boss's. _Don't make me beg._

"My word's final, Tony," Gibbs said, more softly than even he expected. "The doc said you should lay on your back and try to rest as much as possible."

He left before Tony could protest.

"Don't worry, son, I'll find us something to occupy ourselves."

Tony closed his eyes for a few seconds, passed a hand through his hair, and suddenly got up.

"It's okay, Jack," he said with a warm smile and a light expression. The older man frowned at the abrupt change in the agent, but nodded anyway. This was Tony, after all.

.

Tony hated to admit it, but Gibbs had been right not to let him go back so soon. At 1300 hours, he was already in bed, absolutely exhausted even though he had spent the morning watching TV and playing cards.

As usual, his sleep was fitful and did not bring any rest. He rarely ever remembered his dreams, but as he woke up for the third time since he had lain down, his mind immediately jumped to a very recent memory of holding Elena against him. When he'd been sleeping on his couch to leave his bedroom to Jack and she had joined him, he had almost crushed her to his body. Had he dreamt of her? He felt uneasy and restless.

Even then, he had known it was a desperate, pathetic attempt at making her warmth, her sent, her _everything_ sink into his skin forever… and now he felt cold. His arms contracted even though there was nothing to hold, and he ended up hitting the mattress in frustration. At this pace, he would go mad before his wounds could even heal.

It had been easier the first time. Leaving her. They hadn't touched the way they'd learnt to the second time. Now, they had achieved a new level of intimacy, one that he hadn't known he could ever experience. He hit the mattress again.

She would laugh at him for thinking such things. And he'd kiss her to stop her teasing.

It would be so much easier to just get over it and forget all about her. But a part of him hoped to God this feeling would stay with him forever.

Yes, he was definitely going mad.

.

.

Gibbs rolled his eyes as his two currently active field agents kept bickering about one subject or another in the car. He had stopped paying attention after a while, going back to thinking that they should let DiNozzo rest instead of going home with him to see their partner. McGee had been the one to cross his arms and declare he'd just keep knocking on the door until someone opened if Gibbs locked them out as he threatened. The nerve he had! And Leroy knew Tim wasn't bluffing. He still hadn't forgotten that night the "probie" had followed him home under Tony's orders to make him lock the door.

Damn it, his glare was losing authority.

If he had to be truthful, Gibbs would admit it had nothing to do with the glare. He could have threatened to shoot his own agent, McGee wouldn't have left his front step, that night. This was the new DiNozzo effect.

The team leader sighed as he got out if his car and heard the two agent slam the doors and follow him to his house. _Damn DiNozzo and what he makes them do! _ Abby was already there, babbling away with Jack in the living room. No traces of Tony.

"He's sleeping in his room," Jack said his way before welcoming the team.

His room. Damn right it was his. Gibbs had felt the cold moment of doubt he'd already experienced the night before when he had entered his house and not found DiNozzo right away. After all, the last time he'd been released from the hospital, Tony had chosen to forgo this place and drive to_ Achenza_. _And you ate your pizza alone on his kitchen table_, Gibbs reminded himself.

But now Achenza was history. And DiNozzo was _here_.

Hah.

Even as he thought it, Gibbs knew it wasn't that simple and he shook his head as he left his agents behind and climbed his stairs to check on his SFA.

"Damn it," he heard Tony's muffled voice through the door just before he knocked once and opened right away.

"Thought you were sleeping."

"Well, just one more thing I tried and failed," the younger man said snarkily as he shifted and made to get up from bed.

_Damn it._ He'd hoped Tony wouldn't fall into his own head. Sometimes the kid overthought so much even Gibbs's brain hurt. And it was never a good thing. The exhaustion he could read on Tony's every expression and the self-deprecation never bode well either.

"Before you go down, you should know the team's here."

"What? All of them?"

"I'm sure Ducky and Palmer are not far behind."

"You say that as if you expected me to run away," he snorted.

"I wouldn't judge you for that. I think they're being extra-loud to compensate for your absence."

That had Tony chuckling.

"What is it, boss, having trouble holding the troupes?"

Gibbs smirked and held the "If you only knew" he wanted to answer. This Achenza case gone FUBAR had made _very_ clear how the team had evolved. If Gibbs was to go back to Mexico now, Tony would _not_ receive the same treatment as last time from his partners.

The team was already his, in a way. Leroy had known DiNozzo would make a fine team leader for a long time, but he hadn't realized it fully before Tim disobeyed a direct order from him just to follow Tony's instead. Before Abby kept sending him the advancements of the cases they were working on even though he wasn't there. Ziva already opened up to him more than to anyone anymore, and he had been the only one able to reassure her after she'd found someone at her place. Yeah, they were already kind of Tony's team, they just didn't know it yet.

But hey, that didn't mean Gibbs was out of the picture. They still turned to him for solutions and support. It was just that DiNozzo was not far behind. And hell, Jethro was okay with it. He was damn proud of it, even.

"Come on, move it DiNozzo," the boss ordered, not letting his agent see what he was thinking.

. 

They were on the last step when they heard Ducky berating Palmer just outside the door. Tony looked at him and smirked at the comic routine the M.E and his assistant had developed, and they paused to wait for them to enter. But they didn't.

"Oh my, what do we have here?" Gibbs heard Ducky say just as he opened his own door to see what was stopping the two new-comers.

There was a package on the floor.

"Don't touch it!" Leroy shouted just in time for Palmer to take back his hand. In a second, his SFA was at his six, looking over his shoulder to see what the hell was happening.

"Do you think it might be—" Ducky started asking knowingly.

"No, it's safe," DiNozzo interrupted.

What _now_, Gibbs thought just as Tony bent down to grab the package itself. He flinched on his way down and made a face on his way back up, but he seemed fine enough to make everyone else wait on the doorstep as he just stared thoughtfully at the small parcel wrapped in brown paper with a green ribbon.

"At least I think it is," Tony grumbled when he was already bringing it inside. _Genius_, Gibbs thought. DiNozzo made a bee line to the kitchen, his eyes never leaving the parcel, and his boss, Ducky and Palmer just followed him. 

"Is that the Duck-man?" they heard Abby exclaim from the other room.

But Tony was already unfastening the knotted ribbon, so nobody thought to answer her. It was a book. Just a book. Gibbs squinted his eyes until he could read the title, "Odyssey," and take a look at the cover, the painting of an impressive, muscular Greek with eyes looking up but his shield held down.

"Ah, Odysseus. What an interesting character, don't you think, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky noted quietly.

"Trojan horse, yes?" came a voice from behind. Gibbs had noticed the others joining them in the now too-crowded kitchen, but Tony's head snapped to Ziva's as if just waking up from a trance.

"Precisely. He was the man that thought of a way to get through the enemy's supposedly impenetrable defenses," Ducky nodded, his shrewd eyes traveling the space to fall on Tony's expression and stay there.

_Smart Ducky_.

"Destroyed them from inside."

Gibbs didn't miss how Tony's shoulders suddenly tensed at McGee's words. "Probie" had added his contribution in a light tone as he got around the kitchen table to see what was happening. He frowned when he finally saw the book.

"But that was in the Iliad. _This_ book is about the journey home." He said, looking around, wondering what exactly was happening.

Ducky's weighing eyes were still gauging the SFA's reaction, but the others were more or less just awkwardly wondering what exactly was happening that seemed so serious. Ziva only shrugged and added, softly, understanding something important was happening even though she didn't know what.

"He was the cold-blooded, cunning one, yes? The one that survived."

"You are both very right," Ducky agreed.

"Well, I don't know about cold-blooded. We studied that book in college, and he did kill dozens of men just because they were courting his wife," Palmer contradicted, pushing back his glasses on his nose. "Seems kind of excessive to me, don't you think, doctor? I mean, I would probably kick them out, but I wouldn't-" Jimmy started in a laughing tone.

"They'd tried to destroy his life," Tony intervened, his face snapping Palmer's way. He was frowning and something in his eyes seemed way too far away to his boss's liking.

Gibbs almost grabbed his shoulder, feeling the need to anchor his agent here and now in some way. But then Tony shrugged and passed a hand through his hair, a smile now playing on his cleared face. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but Gibbs knew that Tony had taken a hold of himself.

"They'd tried to take his family from him. **So he stopped them.**"

.

.

.

Tony mentally shook himself and tried to calm down the defensive beast that had roared in his chest a second earlier. It was over now. He stopped them. He snorted and actually shook his head. That woman always found a way to make his feelings act up.

"Who's hungry?" he asked at large when he was finally himself again. "I vote we call pizza."

Tony was pretty sure Gibbs had glared at everyone to make them move, because the kitchen cleared out as Jack seconded his idea and Ziva complained she hadn't eaten anything remotely healthy in days.

"Open it," Abby's voice said. She hadn't moved, still looking at the book as if it could suddenly take life and attack. She was nibbling at her bottom lip, and Tony wondered why she was so nervous. Then he remembered. He'd been the one to give her the tapes, after all. He shouldn't be surprised that she knew all about Elena and his numerous conversations about Achilleus and the other Greek heroes.

He didn't feel like letting her down in any way, so he just obeyed. Only Abby and Gibbs were still there, although Tim was coming back to ask for a pizza menu. He skipped through the pages and only noticed the hidden piece of paper when it fell off. It presented a more applied version of Elena's usual handwriting, but he was sure it was still hers.

"_Penelope waited twenty years for Odysseus. I am not __that__ patient._"

He chocked out a surprised laugh at the note and for no reason that he could consciously comprehend, a weigh was lifted off his chest. Tony felt his boss move from where he'd been a step behind him (having his back, as always). She'd always been such a drama queen.

"Abby," Gibbs called, not-so-subtly asking her to follow him and leave him alone.

The Goth seemed relieved too (what had she expected? He still had to have a real conversation with her), so she just nodded, bounced to give her best friend a peck on the cheek and left.

.

Tony smiled and leant against the table, putting the book away behind him and closing his eyes for a second. His back was starting to bother him again, but he didn't want to take his meds just now. He wanted to be fully awake and conscious to feel whatever it was he was feeling right there and then. With a note from not-quite Penelope and his best friends who came just for him in the other room.

"Do you love her? Elena Filangieri. "

Tim didn't even really startle his senior partner. DiNozzo just massaged his neck; eyes still closed, and back to his friend.

"Would I've left her if I did? Or let her go?" Tony asked as he took a deep, cleansing breath the way Abby had tried to teach him.

Opening his eyes, he pushed himself away from his support and walked around the table to join Probie. The younger man was looking at him really seriously, and it almost deserved an "_aaaaw_" when he shrugged and said:

"You can love her but love… justice more?" Tim attempted.

Tony smiled and looked back at his perplexed yet candid-looking friend, reaching out to him for support (the itch on his back was starting to _really_ hurt).

"That's not the way _**I **_love," he answered simply. And before his conscience could revolt, "Gimme a hand, Proba-curious, Gibbs'll never let me come back to work if I fall on my ass now."

"Are you letting her go _because _you love her or something?" McGee asked as they walked to join the others.

"What's with the questions, Probie? Are you trying to write another book based on us?" Tony asked in a fake threatening voice.

"I _never_ wrote anything based on you guys—"

"Oh come on! That lie again?" Ziva laughed when they arrived.

McGee helped Tony down and shot him a pissed look when the debate about his books' characters started for the hundredth time, only this time with Jack asking to be enlightened. Tony just laughed, even more so when he felt Gibbs's hand softly touch the back of his head, where he would have slapped him if he wasn't wounded. It stayed there, and he didn't complain. It felt good to be home.

.

.

Because Ducky strongly advised against his return to work so soon, Tony had to wait until the next week to be allowed back on _desk_ duty. He had kept the complaining to a minimum, mostly because he knew his boss resented it as much as he did, and because Jack was being awesome with him at home and it would have been unfair to whine in front of him.

Monday came, and as DiNozzo climbed down the stairs, he found the older Gibbs with his own bags, ready to go back to Stillwater. As they hugged (in a very manly way, naturally), Tony couldn't help but ask _again_ if Jack was sure he didn't want to move to Washington to be closer to his son (and to him), but the man just chuckled and shook his head.

Tony then got out and waited in the car to give the two Gibbses some privacy for their own goodbyes, cringing a bit when he realized he had kind of been in their way for almost a week now, and they hadn't really had any time to themselves. And then they were back to work.

.

"Good to see you again," Jeff, the security agent, said through the open window as he raised the barrier to let the car pass.

"Good to be back," he replied truthfully from across Gibbs, who was driving. Tony didn't remark on the small smile that seemed to tug at his boss's lips when he heard that. He just chuckled to himself and leant back.

They took the elevator from the parking lot, and he couldn't help but smile again like a fool when the characteristic _ding_ rung and the doors opened to an ecstatic Abby waiting with a black balloon hovering around her head.

"Welcome back, Tony!"

DiNozzo smiled and accepted her hug carefully, taking a look at Ziva and Tim, who were already at their desks and looking at him obviously amused.

"Palmer brought cake, we can have it for lunch!"

"Abbs, it's not his birthday," Gibbs snorted as he kissed her cheek and made his way to his desk.

"I don't care, we both agreed Tony's return was to be celebrated, just like the end of all dark eras should be." 

Dark era, huh. Tony's minute flinch at the words passed unnoticed, and he nodded when Gibbs ordered "Back to work, everyone!". He knew he had something else to do first, though. Cynthia had called him before the week-end to make sure he wouldn't forget. So when Abby let go of him and he thanked her for her kind attention, he walked to Ziva.

"Hold on to that for me, would you?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes but accepted the balloon's string from him. He then turned his heels and walked straight to the director's office. He could feel his boss's eyes on him as he climbed the few steps, and it felt right.

.

"Hey Tony," Cynthia, the secretary, greeted him when he arrived. "Go straight ahead, he's waiting for you." He nodded and obeyed, knocking once and opening the door without waiting for permission.

"Special Agent DiNozzo. Good to see you on your feet again. You're feeling good enough to be back?"

"Desk duty for a moment, but I'll be back in the field in no time." _If I'm not fired_, he added to himself.

"That's good. I don't like seeing my field agents incapacitated in any way."

"Too much paperwork?" Tony asked cheekily, and the toothpick stilled as Leon raised and eyebrow.

"Well, if I wasn't sure before, now I know you're really okay."

"You know I'd hate for you to worry, Director," DiNozzo said, amused, and Vance snorted.

"So, let's cut to the point. What are we gonna do with you, DiNozzo?"

"Gibbs made a point to _not_ let me know what was happening with IA, so I have _no_ clue," Tony answered truthfully.

Vance eyed a file on his desk for a second, and Tony couldn't help but be curious about it.

"IA doesn't exactly keep me in the loop either. But Agent Fornell and the director of the FBI himself were both very adamant you deserved some kind of commendation for your work on the Achenza case."

Tony 's eyebrows were high on his forehead now, but Vance just smirked and went on.

"Whatever IA does, you should know that the direction of NCIS is very impressed and _proud_ to have you in our Agency, Special Agent DiNozzo."

Well, that must have been hard to get out.

"Now, now, DiNozzo, what's happening, you have nothing to say to that? Are you sure you are perfectly recovered?" Leon asked snidely.

"I am just wondering how all these beautiful sentiments will turn around if IA finds me guilty of anything."

"As you know, the IA divisions of agencies such as ours are independent from our direction, and both the FBI and SecNav agree that until proven guilty, you should have all the support of the Agency. NCIS believes in its agents, Special Agent DiNozzo, whatever you may have chosen to believe these past few years."

Okay, now Tony was really surprised. He had known for a while now that maybe Vance held some kind of grudging respect toward him, since he kept offering positions. So their relation had evolved from "You're a screw up and I can't wait to see you fail", to "I don't like your attitude, but you're not too bad, so let's try to be civil." Plus, Vance was not the hypocrite type, so he didn't take offense at Tony's lack of butt-kissing.

"Does that mean you're still offering me that position in Quantico?"

"If you had any idea of the magnitude of your actions in the fight against organized crime, you wouldn't even ask."

"**Believe** me, I have a fairly good idea of the consequences of my actions," DiNozzo tried to keep the dark edge out of his voice.

"That trial is going to mark history. Hopefully, a _lot_ of big names and big families are going to bring each other down in front of the law. Who knows, maybe some day someone will make a movie about it and you'll have one of your beloved actors play _your_ role."

"Well, too late for James Dean, so I guess they will have trouble finding anyone as charismatic and handsome as yours truly," Tony answered without missing a beat as he tried _not _to think about the hell that was going to be that giant, multi-case trial.

"The position, DiNozzo. What's your answer about the position?"

"You know my answer, Leon," he shrugged softly, with a small, unamused smile.

"Tony you are wasting yourself. You could lead, maybe even move things at headquarter, give _them _a headache for once."

"_Sometimes you have to serve in order to lead." _

The director just sighed and pressed two fingers against his temple, as if he was actually starting to feel that headache.

"What's that, another movie quote?"

Tony chuckled and nodded, still comfortably leaning on the opposite chair and unapologetic.

"_Troy_."

"Of course," Leon rolled his eyes, "I hope you're not making a huge mistake. Some day or another, you'll have to step away from Gibbs's shadow."

"I'm not in his shadow, Director. I'm by his side, just like Special Agents McGee and David."

"Okay then. At least with you here, it'll be easier to deal with IA and the trial coming our way."

.

He was barely back in the bullpen when his desk phone rung. He picked it up just as he sat, and frowned when he was asked in a bark-like tone who he was.

"Excuse-me?" he asked politely.

_"I'm supposed to talk to agent Gibbs, are you him?_"

"No, this is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, I'm—"

_"Well, what are you waiting for, patch me through."_

Tony just shrugged and did.

"It's for you boss," he warned when Gibbs's desk phone started to ring. He only noticed how the whole team was _staring_ at him when he hung up and Probie cleared his throat. Gibbs was on the phone now, but he was still looking at him too.

"_Anth_ony DiNozzo? I thought you hated to be called like that."

"Oh I said Anthony? I don't know I didn't really do it on purpose. Looks like I got over my problems with my name. I guess I'll start working on my Oedipus complex next," he joked.

Both ZIva and Probie still seemed a bit unconvinced, but they had apparently bigger questions to ask, seeing as how they glanced and nodded at each other before looking back a him.

"And what did Vance tell you?_" _ Ziva asked. Well, at least they were working as a team.

"I just had to see Vance to clear out the whole mess of my—abrupt departure."

"But are you _leaving_?" she insisted, putting it plainly.

"Leaving? Where? I think it's pretty clear that I'm not welcomed in Baltimore anymore, don't you?"

"Tony, we _know_ about all those offers you've had (and thank you for sharing by the way). You've been offered Spain, and Cuba and …" Tim started.

"And you _really_ love the beach!" Ziva completed.

Gibbs, who had hung up quickly after a few words with his caller, pretended to completely ignore the whole conversation, still reading whatever file he had in hands, though with a small, almost imperceptible, smile. He was enjoying Tony's return a _bit_ too much for his SFA's taste.

"Well obviously I couldn't go! the sun, the women, the new probie. How could I have focused on the work at hand and - ".

"You could just say it, you know," Tim interrupted with a relieved expression. Ziva was smiling too now; she let herself lean against the back of her chair.

"Say what?"

"That there's nowhere else you'd rather be," Ziva said contentedly.

Tony threw his head back and laughed.

.  
>.<p>

He knew things would never go back to the way they were. A few years back, the team would have closed the Achenza case and never mentioned it again. There would have been too many things left unsaid, and it would have eaten at each of them, in a way or another. The only thing that they'd have gained would have been a weakened trust in one another (and especially in Tony), and nothing more.

But now things were different. The team chose to face everything together, even if it meant asking straight questions and taking the risk to see the answer change everything. Yes, that was it. They weren't afraid of **change** anymore. And it was a good thing. Their world wouldn't stop because Tony quit being such a clown from times to times, and they wouldn't stop respecting him if he made a mistake. As his laugh became chuckle and his chuckle, a smile, Tony felt as if they were really _looking_ at him and _seeing_ him. It felt damn good.

He still had a lot of reasons to worry, but at this moment, they didn't seem that important. And he had a feeling that his team would keep it that way. The IA investigation on him was still open, but now that he knew he had two federal agencies on his six (probably for fear of seeing their big fat trial go to waste) and his team's support, he knew it would not be too bad.

Achenza wouldn't testify against him, and would be released to home detention. Carmine had probably already called all his men off Tony. Tony had actually decided he would go visit him before the trial (he was held in a health care facility since the interrogation incident), and he would tell him the truth, because Carmine deserved it. Then he'd make sure they never met again. That was the only thing he had planned for the near future. He didn't have the strength (or will) necessary to keep thinking 10 steps ahead anymore. One day at a time, and he'd be fine.

"Grab your gear, we have a case!" Gibbs voice suddenly rung out, bringing him back to the present. The boss hung up the phone and everyone got up except Tony, who just made a face.

"But about Baltimore though," McGee resumed as he picked up his SIG sauer from his desk drawer and strapped it on. "Won't you miss being _Antonio the Great_?" he asked, half teasingly and half genuinely curious.

"It's better to be _good_," Gibbs said as he walked by Tony's desk to call the elevator. He looked at him knowingly for just a second, but Tony felt a deep warmth echo back in his chest.

"Yeah, harder, too," DiNozzo added with a detached smile as he forced himself to look away from his boss and at McGee.

"But it's worth it."

And Gibbs's words sounded like a promise.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Fin –

**So? **

_**AN**_:

Bear with me now.

• I actually have a question ( other than the usual "what did you think about it?" ). This chapter is almost **twice** as long as the usual ones. Do you think I should cut it and post it as two chapters, to make it easier to read?

• This is the final chapter of _**Honor Thy Father**_. Of course, because this is supposed to be _kinda_ real-life like, all loose ends aren't magically tied in one day. I'll never write an actual sequel, but I may write short one-shots. I want to tell you about what happens to Julian, about Carmine/Tony during the trial, I want to tell you about that talk McGee decided he needed to have with Tony when he came back, and the punch in the face it included. Those would be short companion stories that I may never write but that are in my head and that you may like. So. Just thought you should know.

• Naturally, my last words in this story go to **Debbie**. Thank you for working with me on this project as my beta, thank you for your insight and thank you for giving me so much of your time.

**It's been great writing for you. Goodbye, guys**.


End file.
